


When It Comes to Us

by HauntMeReckless



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Other, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Poly, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build, Steve Feels, Steve Finding Himself After Bucky, Tony Stark Actually Cares, Tony Stark Has A Heart, brief Thor/Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HauntMeReckless/pseuds/HauntMeReckless
Summary: Clint and Laura had thought seriously about a polyamorous relationship. They’d had talks about it in the past and again recently with the kids more grown up to understand it. But they’d never pursued the idea. Nothing had ever felt like the right time, no one had ever felt like the right fit or the right person. But Barnes…Sometimes it shook Clint with just how right he felt. [TECHNICALLY FINISHED -- Last two chapters are (mostly) smutty epilogues with feeling.]{Chapters 6-7 // In a light tribute to sarah_holmes and her incredible story 'I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me.' - Clint disappears with Bucky for a day, escaping to Coney Island, cheap motel rooms, and decades of old memories.}





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

I  
Clint got the call around two in the morning. And _those_ calls were never good calls.

Those were often ‘the world is ending’ type of calls or an Avenger type of emergency that kept pulling him out of retirement. A funny little word he liked to use to explain when he wasn’t acting as an Avenger or saving the world. Or the downtime when he wasn’t. He wasn’t complaining, not really, Clint was just happy they could call on him when they needed him. More than anything he’d never say no. And more than anything Clint would always be there if he could help it. So he never minded those early morning calls. They just never stopped to make him a little sick with worry initially when he picked up his phone.

And tonight, this time, that stomach dropping feeling was warranted. It was an emergency tone so Clint didn’t even bother with his phone, he just opened the secure video line on his Avengers business strictly tablet. And was immediately greeted with a battered and weary looking Steve Rogers sitting in what looked to be most of a Quinjet cockpit. Because the top of it was entirely gone.

“What’s going on.” Clint demanded, feeling Laura wrap a concerned arm around his waist and put her chin on his shoulder.

_“I don’t have a lot of time to explain. I just need you to go after Bucky. Hydra crashed the mission we were trying to clear and he went AWOL. Worse, Tony’s been captured by Hydra. Bucky had a good idea of where they took him but now he’s gone.”_

Clint was already getting out of bed, holding the tablet in hand as he walked into his closet and blindly flipped the emergency switch to the safe room. “Do you know where he went?”

_“He has a tracker.”_

Clint raised an eyebrow at the leader of the Avengers as he took the stairs two at a time into the secure room he kept all his uniforms, weapons and supplies for just these occurrences. It was practically invisible, heavily shielded, and well disguised - mostly in part because it was so small. “Does he know about this tracker?”

Steve winced. _“Yeah.”_

Which meant the Winter Soldier could easily switch it off if he deemed it a threat or if he really wanted to completely disappear. “And Hydra triggered him?” Clint asked, setting the tablet into it’s place on the wall so he could talk and gear up.

 _“Yeah. I don’t know what you’re walking into if you find, he might just be confused but be on your guard.”_ and there was legitimately the sound of a Hulk roar in the background and a small explosion in the distance behind Rogers’ head. Steve winced and grabbed his shield. _“I need to get back to it. Just find Bucky and get Tony.”_

“You got it.”

The screen cut out and went black and Clint finished quickly gearing up. Efficiently too. Arrows to disable an opponent without killing them, especially geared for something as hard to take down as a Super Soldier, specifically. Because there wasn’t exactly a chance in hell that even he could go toe to toe with the Winter Soldier and live to tell about it. Especially not with how Captain America had looked after trying something similar.

 

 

Four hours later, ironically in the heavily wooded area surrounding a small Ukrainian town named ‘Buky’ - Barnes’ tracker was coming in loud and clear. Clint smiled to himself as he set the Quinjet down, easing it between thickly placed trees, wondering if the Winter Soldier had wandered into this area intentionally. It was almost eerie, strange. But much of the man was. In many ways he seemed more like a ghost, occasionally haunting certain areas of his own memory, or returning to places like a ghost might. Like this strange place in Ukraine.

And the tracker was moving but not really now. So Clint was guessing he hadn’t ditched the subdermal implant. It had been moving at a pretty fast clip away from the battle zone, Clint monitoring Barnes’ movements the whole flight over. A few times he had tried to raise Barnes on the radio but after getting nothing but static, Clint was guessing he _had_ ditched that. Either way he still wasn’t responding. Clint had still tried to talk to him regardless but whether or not Barnes had ever responded to his voice might just be a coincidence…

“Come on pal.” Clint had said to the man, not sure if he could even hear him. “You might be scared, you’re probably confused. But I need you to slow down for me. Just take it easy.”

Barnes hadn’t exactly slowed down. Not at first. He traversed nearly thirty eight kilometers in four hours from Zalis’ke to Buky. Only slowing near the small, Ukrainian city as he’d neared it. And now the tracker was moving like Barnes was actually confused.

Clint pulled himself out of the Quinjet and hit the ground cautiously. Barnes could probably allude him for hours, days, if he really wanted. He could disappear like a ghost into all these trees and never come out. But at least he wasn’t near a heavily populated city or _in_ one. Clint felt like he at least stood somewhat of a chance, or at least that’s what he told himself. Barnes wasn’t moving anymore and Clint was guessing he was disoriented and it was good to be optimistic.

And ‘disoriented and confused’ was pretty much a given after Clint quickly caught up to the man.

Barnes _looked_ confused, pretty much standing in a clearing and not moving, not looking too winded even though he’d pretty much just run twenty four miles. He was a little beat up, clothes dirty, maybe even damp and a bit muddy. But not seriously injured. So that was good. And Clint had the solid guess that he was talking to Bucky. Definitely not the Winter Soldier. All that was left now after being triggered was the man. And not the weapon.

“Hey.” Clint called quietly. “Barnes?”

As if just noticing that Clint was even there, Barnes’ eyes met his and he went subtly even more quiet than he had been. And then he blinked. But he didn’t say anything.

“Are you all right?” Clint tentatively asked. “Do you know where you are?”

Barnes frowned and actually looked more confused than he had been. And maybe too many questions were definitely not the best approach. “No.” And his eyes slipped past Clint’s shoulder as he tried to figure it all out and then fell to the ground between their feet.

Clint smiled just a bit. “Yeah and you’ll never guess either.” Expression sobering, he eased closer, taking measured steps and nothing too quickly either. “Do you know who I am?”

Barnes gave him a look that actually, nearly broke Clint’s heart. His stomach definitely did an uncomfortable flip.

“Clint.” Clint supplied gently, actually shocked that Barnes had been triggered _that_ badly. “Hawkeye?” And he found a smile. “We’ve done a few missions together.” More like nine. _And I’ve talked you off the edge of a roof even if I didn’t think you were going to jump. Lied to Rogers in Bolivia when you puked your guts out after eating because you were guilty that you hadn’t eaten for days and all Rogers wanted was for you to be fed._

“Right.” Barnes blinked and appeared to give himself a mental shake. And then suddenly the past few hours seem to hit him all at once. “The mission.” he said, almost looking startled.

“They have it covered.” Clint said instead, trying to redirect Barnes back on point, without being too jarring about it. The former assassin was rattled enough. “Steve sent me to find you. He said you knew where they’d taken Stark.”

Barnes nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. A place in Kiev. We better hurry.”

Clint didn’t exactly want to think about reasons. But he knew _exactly_ why. They’d better. Stark had already been in Hydra hands for a little over two hours now. And a minute was long enough. Barnes was no better evidence of that.

 

 

“I wish Steve hadn’t told me about the tracker.”

Clint glanced behind him from where he was piloting the Quinjet, at Barnes sitting in the seat directly behind his. “Would you let Wanda help you forget about it?”

And Clint could swear he heard a small smile in Barnes’ voice when he replied. “I should talk to you more often. Steve would have never suggested that.”

Clint smiled himself, a little grimly. “Yeah well.”

“It’s a good idea.” Barnes said. “You think she would?”

“I don’t think she’d mind.” Clint gentled his voice. “We’ll run it by the captain-” but he saw, in the reflection of the stronger than and ‘certainly not quite glass’ screen in front of him, Barnes’ wince and glance away, towards the floor. “We’ll make a good case of it.” he assured him.

“It was pretty hard not to remove it. I have before. Once. All right… more than a few times.”

Clint appreciated his honestly, surprised Rogers’ hadn’t told him that particular bit of information before. But there was a lot that Rogers kept in the dark about Bucky’s rehabilitation and so Clint wasn’t exactly surprised. Rogers seemed to take everything about Barnes entirely on his own shoulders. And while the man would often take the weight of the world when appropriate, and even when it wasn’t, with Barnes… it went a lot deeper than that. Almost like a place of guilt. Like everything that happened to Barnes was his responsibility because he’d somehow been the cause of it all. The only person he seemed to let anywhere near the situation was Sam.

“But not you, right?” Clint asked pointedly.

“No.” And there was that wince again. While Steve had guilt, hell Barnes reinvented the word. “The other guy.”

A term they usually applied to Banner and the Hulk but now more or less, Barnes was in a very similar position with the Winter Soldier and all of Hydra’s conditioning and mental rewiring.

Clint flipped a switch and opened up a channel to Steve. “This is Hawkeye, come in.”

_“I read you. Have you found Bucky?”_

“Yeah I got him. And we’re going after Tony. What’s your situation?”

_“Uh. It got a little more complicated. Actually I don’t even think we’re on earth anymore. Thor’s not too sure himself. But Vision is tracking us and I’ll let you know when we’re clear.”_

“You got it. Keep me posted.”

_“Likewise. Over.”_

“Hawkeye, out.” Clint turned off communications just as Barnes spoke up from behind him.

“Here.” he said quietly.

Kiev. Clint could see it approaching and looked for a place to stash the jet. And he glanced back at Barnes. “We’ll find a place to set down and change into something more conspicuous…” But that arm of his. “We’ll find you something.”

“There’s a Hydra fallback point in Kiev. It might be abandoned. I uh… I have something there.”

“You got it.” Clint agreed reluctantly, grimly, but he met Barnes’ eyes seriously with his own. “I’m going to need you to try and stay with me. If you feel yourself slipping…”

“I’ll tell you.”

“That’s all I ask. But don’t be afraid to use me as something to hang on to either. I’m here for that too.”

Grateful, quiet blue eyes met his in the glass reflection, deceivingly quiet, but Clint felt himself riveted for a moment. Something within Clint always kept a professional distance with Barnes. A friendly one. They were friends, they were close, it had been that way since that rainy night a few months ago when Barnes had been rattled by something else Hydra. But mostly Clint tried to keep it friendly because a big part of him was attracted to the other man. In a big way. And he knew it and it honestly worried him.

Clint and Laura had thought seriously about a polyamorous relationship. They’d had talks about it in the past and recently with the kids more grown up to understand it. But they’d never pursued the idea. Nothing had ever felt like the right time, no one had ever felt like the right fit or the right person. But Barnes…

It shook Clint with how right he felt. But Clint didn’t feel like it was exactly an option. Barnes was basically three people, still heavily recovering from Hydra, and most likely no where near the place for someone to come on to him - it just wasn’t right. To try and date the guy either, unfair to Barnes mostly. The guy was still pretty much trying to figure out who he was. So Clint did his best to give Barnes the best friend he could be. And kept his distance in that other area too.

Clint averted his eyes from the glass, feeling stupidly rattled all of a sudden, and stuffed that all back down too. But he didn’t miss the way Barnes look a little… there were no good words to put to it. Not surprised? Like he’d recognized the connection they’d had but hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised that Clint hadn’t…

“Hey.” Clint said. Because he felt some compelled to say something. Anything so that Barnes wouldn’t feel unlovable.

Barnes’ eyes met his.

And Clint chose his words carefully. “I’m attracted to you. I’m attracted to every piece I’ve seen of you. But I’m not going to make a move unless you’re ready for it. So until then, and even if that never happens, I’m here for you in whatever way you’re capable of receiving… okay?”

Barnes looked more than a little surprised, struggling to take in his words. And Clint let him take the time. But, more than aware that they had a mission at hand, he seemed to rush the process - giving himself a mental shake and nodding slightly. “All right.” he managed.

“All right.” Clint murmured.

 

They set down in an abandoned industrial sector of Kiev and stashed the jet in a warehouse. Clint threw a jacket over his uniform and collapsed his bow into something that could be hidden underneath of it and easily deployed in the case of combat. The Hydra ‘fallback point’ was only blocks from the warehouse and Clint followed Barnes to it, both men moving quickly, very much aware of how necessary it was to get Stark out of Hydra hands. And the sooner the better.

The fallback point was abandoned, Barnes easily pulling the rusted and chained cellar door open. It led down to a dark set of stairs, Clint shining a flashlight down the stairwell. But it led right to a heavily secured steel door with apparently no point of entry.

“You got this?” Clint asked Barnes.

“Yeah… yeah I got it.” Barnes operated some days like an amnesiac or a man with badly placed memories that weren’t his own. Like he had to wade through a couple people to get at what he wanted and this was no different. But he pushed open a secret compartment that otherwise looked like just another section of concrete and revealed a worn keypad. And he hesitated, but then entered a ten digit code.

 _“Identify.”_ A cold, female computerized voice said.

“Zima.” Barnes intoned.

The door immediately gave way. And Clint silently let out a breath he’d been holding but he didn’t let it all the way out. His eyes were still closely on Barnes.

There was very little inside. Some of it was covered in dusty, thick tarps of muted and worn grays. But the chair in the middle was immediately, and extremely off putting. “You all right?” Clint ventured to ask, mostly as Barnes warily avoided the thing, stiffly keeping it in his periphery but not looking at it directly.

“Yeah.”

But the fear in his voice. It was obvious.

“I’m right here.” Clint murmured.

Barnes nodded off hand and disappeared into another room. Clint rounded the chair so he could keep the man in his sight, noting that he was putting on at least a different leather jacket - one with two sleeves. And it had obviously been stored for awhile - everything in here probably hadn’t seen the last decade.

Clint mostly tried to keep his eyes off horrific little details… but that’s not how his mind worked. He couldn’t help but notice the chair, his eyes couldn’t help but track over the device and the computer it was attached to, the straps. The thing was like something out of a bad horror film and Clint’s guts twisted just a little thinking of all the pain and hell Barnes had endured in that thing.

Footsteps drew his eyes up and Barnes was giving him a cautious look from the doorway of the small storage room. “Let’s go.”

Clint nodded them out towards the door.

But Barnes was slipping and Clint could tell. Ever since stepping into that room with the chair, before when Hydra had rattled some of the ghosts loose, but slipping that older jacket on was doing something too. Clint kept close, to the point where their shoulders were almost brushing. It wasn’t tactical. If they were in a country where male affection was better received, he’d be holding his hand. And that wasn’t tactical either. But Clint didn’t want Barnes to slip away completely. And he could only imagine how that felt.

“Stay with me.” Clint said under his breath as they headed shoulder to shoulder towards an old antique shop.

“I’m trying.” Barnes murmured back.

Clint was forced to drop it as Barnes opened the door to the shop and stepped inside. And it was only then that Clint separated from the man, forced to be tactical now. It wasn’t good at all to be so close to each other in as close of quarters as the antique shop nearly forced. So Clint went towards the front of the shop, near the window, taking everything in at a glance. No suspicious cars outside, two exists - front and back. The elderly woman the cash register behind the counter had a hard expression on her face. Clint would almost peg her as a covert operative. And he was guessing she was.

Clint caught Barnes picking up a figure of a ballerina and the expression on his face was distant, like he’d stumbled onto something in his head. Clint wished he could interfere in some way, tell him to stay on point or just offer a sympathetic, stabilizing presence - something to pull him out even maybe, but Barnes seemed to pull himself together on his own with a quiet breath.

Deliberately, Barnes put down the ballerina figurine and reached for something next to it - a Soviet looking submarine. And was his hand shaking ever so slightly when he picked it up? He looked like what he was doing was… it was something specific. And Clint stayed cautiously, watching both of their backs, aware of their surroundings. The weight of the bow at his back was a comfort.

The older woman spoke and Clint caught her moving a similar submarine beside her towards the other side of the register. Such a subtle gesture that Clint hardly missed. Not in his days as a covert operative certainly. “Are you boys… looking to do some sightseeing?” Shockingly, it was said in American, though her accent was thick.

Clint looked to Barnes. Who was looking like the words were making him just a little bit sick.

“We were thinking about heading up to Pripyat.” he replied.

And now the elderly woman was watching Barnes real close. And Clint felt himself tense all over in a way only covert operatives did. Without showing it visually. To be ready for anything without giving it away. But he was ready for something all right.

Finally, she spoke. And those eyes of hers were impossibly shrewd. “You had better bring a Geiger counter.”

“Mine is in the shop.” Barnes said.

Clint glanced between him… and the woman. And then she reached underneath the counter -

It was like Barnes knew he was going to move, before he did, and that was something. Immediately he held out a hand to stop Clint from pulling his bow. And the elderly woman gave Clint a solid, almost scathing glance, but Barnes just somehow managed to pull together a small smile. And he was definitely a few shades paler since he had been after leaving the Quinjet. “He’s new.”

The woman turned that look on Barnes and Clint heard a button depressed with a solid click, saw her press it. “Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” Barnes said quietly.

The elderly woman pushed a door open with her hand and Barnes dropped his hand away from Clint… and the woman’s eyes landed directly on him. Oh… right. “Hail Hydra.” he said, having to swallow down a lot of bile just to do it. But he obviously did good enough to pass even the elderly woman’s shrewd, unforgiving gaze. Because she let him follow Barnes through the door and down a very, very dark set of stairs. The door closing behind them was pretty much alarming. But at least they were in.

The hallways were wide and dimly lit and didn’t lead to much. But definitely a military converted basement… complete with holding cells and abandoned offices. Clint wondered if Barnes had walked these hallways before. His shoulders were tense, his hands lightly clenched, but his footsteps were deliberate. He definitely wasn’t lost. And there was one room that was lit but they weren’t going to reach it. There were two Hydra soldiers standing in the hallway.

And Clint was pretty sure they told them to stop.

“Now.” Barnes said quietly and Clint didn’t need any further prompting.

Reaching back for his bow, he dropped it from the holster at his back and pressed a release, the bow snapping together to full length. Clint was pulling back an arrow just as Bucky dropped the first soldier with a well placed head shot, dropping the second with a similar hit. Right into his throat so that he couldn’t scream.

  
The security door opened and Barnes took the right and Clint the left.

It was mostly two lab officials and a scattering of guards. Tony was strapped down to a table in the center of the room and Clint heard him snap off something snarky so at least he was mentally lucid and intact.

“Keep the white coats alive! … or _not_.” Tony muttered the last and Barnes gave Clint a somewhat guilty look. He hadn’t left anyone alive and Clint was guessing it had been purely a reflex but even the civilians… Even if they were far from innocent, Clint had been there. He’d done it. But Barnes did it so efficiently, like it wasn’t even a thought to leave anything alive, and it was only after that he seemed to realize what he’d done. Like a light switch.

Clint stepped over the guards he’d taken out and reached for the straps holding Tony to the table.

“What took you so long?” Tony asked.

Barnes was undoing the straps around his ankles and wrists from the other side and wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes while he did it. “Hydra triggered me and set me loose. I would have come sooner.”

Tony’s eyes heavily fell to the bodies on the floor. “Right. Well that explains some of that.”

Barnes winced and mostly turned away before they could see it. And he was grabbing a key card by the computer. “Did they do anything to you?”

“Good old fashioned torture. Nothing too in-depth thankfully. What about you?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky suddenly turned and Clint did too. Another man in a white coat, scrambling to get away, hadn’t been in the room at the time - probably in another, adjacent to the one they were standing in now. And Barnes immediately raised his gun but Clint slammed the door and shut off the guy’s only exit. And then he grabbed Barnes arm.

“Hey!” he said loudly, pushing his arm away and stepping in front of Barnes for good measure.

And Barnes actually stopped, enough for Clint to turn to the terrified man on the floor. Who had apparently peed himself on top of everything else. And he was talking a lot in a terrified scattering of Russian but ‘Zima’ or something or other was something he was saying the most of.

“Zimniy?” Tony repeated, getting off the table. “‘Zima’? Do you recognize him?” he demanded, pointing to Barnes.

The man frantically nodded and responded in English. “Yes, yes! Please - I was taking orders just like you, please don’t kill me-”

“Oh for the love of-” Tony nodded to Clint. “Grab him. These bastards make me sick. But it’s going to be _real_ fun to take him apart for a change.”

Clint looked to Barnes first, meeting his eyes with his own. Even though Barnes wouldn’t look at him, staring at the man on the floor instead. “Hey.” Clint called quietly. “Look at me.”

Barnes tore his eyes away from the guy in the white coat on the floor and did as he asked and Clint gave his arm a squeeze. “You’re all right. You with me?”

“Let’s just get out of here.” And much more quietly, a pain in his eyes akin to begging. “Please.”

Clint’s chest tightened. “You got it. Let me just get this piece of shit off the floor.”

“Where’s your cyanide pills huh? Forget to put them in this morning? Bad day for that.” Tony said, nudging the guy on the floor none too gently with his foot. “Well it’s good for us. All you pricks manage to off yourselves before we can get a decent amount of information out of you-”

Clint reached down and grabbed the man by the coat, grimacing and ignoring the puddle he had to step in to do it. “Come on you sorry piece of - on your damn feet.”

“Barnes?” Tony asked suddenly and Clint, worriedly, sent a concerned glance his way. But he was surprised when Tony’s voice suddenly wasn’t unkind. Maybe even gentle. And he held out a hand to him, but of course he didn’t touch. That wasn’t Tony. But even the reaching said a whole damn lot. “Hey. Easy. You’re okay. We’re getting out of here.”

“Yeah.” Barnes said but he looked damn confused. And damn pale.

“Where’s the Captain?” Tony asked and generally Steve was the go to guy when Barnes unraveled. Clint could understand that. But right now they really didn’t have that option -

“Right here.” They were all surprised to hear, everyone looking up as a door closed heavily at the end of the hall that led to the room they were standing in. And Steve looked a little worse for wear but otherwise fine, stars and stripes a little dirty but nothing torn, flanked by Natasha. Who looked decently uneasy about the small, Hydra set-up they were standing in. Clint could relate. But Barnes…

“ _How_ on earth-” Tony started.

But Rogers was heading right for Barnes. “Not on earth and it’s a long story. But Bucky has a tracker. We followed that down here.”

“Steve…”

Rogers wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders and brought him close, easing the gun out of his hands. “You’re all right now. You did good, Buck. Just stay with me. We’re getting out of here.” And then he looked to the guy in Clint’s hands. “Good work grabbing him. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“With pleasure.” Clint said, shooting a sympathetic look in Barnes’ direction. Even Natasha reached out, taking Barnes’ gun from Steve when he handed it to her, and giving one of his hand’s a squeeze.

“You’re okay.” she murmured. "You did real good."

Barnes didn’t look like anything remotely resembling 'okay'.

 

 

TBC -- [1/10]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly did not mean to make this so long. Sorry about that! The next chapters are going to be shorter! I'm just happy people are interested in this crazy little idea I have.

 

 

 

II

They took the Quinjet back and not one of the smaller transport jets. Bucky had wanted to ride back with Clint but didn’t say anything and now he was wishing he had. The idea of flying back to New York with a group of people was unsettling. He knew the Avengers, but it was more than a little overwhelming.

He’d stayed quiet mostly because of Steve. Bucky had felt like he was going to shake apart in that Hydra base. It had all unraveled and being suddenly pulled into Steve’s arms had felt a lot like a miracle. Bucky hadn’t felt like he was losing it as soon as they’d got some distance from Kiev. But now he just felt exhausted and tired.

Steve had practically come to his rescue. A lot like decades ago, when Hydra had gotten a hold of him the first time. _Before_ the fall from the plane. Steve had just ‘shown up’ then too. Back then Bucky hadn’t figured anyone would and he’d accepted that… but Steve of all people. Bucky could easily call his grasp on reality tentative even back then, especially strapped to that table as he had been, for however long that had been. But Steve.

The guy seemed to make the impossible, possible. But Bucky knew the secret behind that apparent super power, behind the guy himself Steve just refused to give up a fight. Period. Even when he probably should.

Bucky’s eyes dropped to the floor and he worked his gloved hands in his lap, squeezing his fingers. He’d found a darker part of the larger jet to sit and find some privacy in and no one was bothering him so there was that. But he was almost wishing someone would, as much as he wanted to be left alone. He was missing Clint actually. Bucky wished he’d work up the nerve to just say he wanted to ride back with him. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice. He just had the tendency to forget or even remember that he had the option to have a choice.

And Steve made it easy to follow him, especially when Bucky was dazed and confused and wandering around lost in his own head. He was a steadfast presence that Bucky gravitated to. He couldn’t help it. It was made worse by the fact that Steve didn’t mind in the least bit and Bucky had a tendency to fall into Steve before he even knew what he was doing.

But Clint… the man wouldn’t leave his head.

_“I’m attracted to you. I’m attracted to every piece of you that I’ve seen.”_

Bucky could hardly even grasp what he’d said, how it was even possible. Beyond his own feelings of self-doubt, he was a wreck. What kind of relationship was even possible? He was too dangerous to be around his wife. He was too dangerous to be around his entire family, especially his kids. There didn’t seem to be even an option for anything else.

Bucky was still trying to get around the concept of a relationship with more than one person. He didn’t know Laura. But how was a wife supposed to share her husband? Why would she even want to? Was this a common practice now in the modern world and if so, Bucky hadn’t heard of it before.

Bucky lifted his eyes from the floor at the sound of approaching footsteps, watching Tony approach. “Hey. Cap wants you up front.” he said, that intuitive gaze of his sweeping over Bucky in a glance. Bucky almost didn’t like it. As much as he was too tired to try and even hide what a mess he was. Usually he didn’t even bother. He was just… he was tired.

So he just nodded and stood, idly wondering what Steve wanted.

Sitting down in the passenger side of the Quinjet next to Steve thought felt good. Grounding. Not like so much like he was supposed to be there, but where he fit the best. And that was a feeling he couldn’t even put words to at the moment. Definitely exactly what he’d needed just then. But he gave an almost unsure glance over at Steve, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You wanted me for something?”

“Yeah.” Steve reached up and adjusted some switches, giving Bucky a smile. “I wanted you up here with me.” But his expression sobered a bit and he lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t usually pull you out of a place I thought you were comfortable in - but you didn’t look comfortable.”

Bucky let out a quiet breath and turned his eyes away, out of the cockpit and the setting sun filtering through the clouds. He wasn’t sure how Steve had even seen him from where he’d been sitting. But of course he had and he was glad for it. Bucky really was.

Bucky relaxed against his seat and watched the clouds pass by. Even the steady thrum of the Quinjet was soothing. Steve’s companionable silence was all he needed, his presence just as steadying and as grounding as it usually was. And right then, Bucky was going to take it all in for the insurmountable gift that it was. And his eyes started to close, exhaustion pulling at the corners of his mind. But as it usually did, his stomach dropped at the sensation of falling asleep and he startled awake. But Steve didn’t embarrass him by mentioning it.

So Bucky gave it another try, focusing on the darkening clouds and letting his own exhaustion take him. There was no harm in getting some sleep. It was going to be a two hour flight and he felt a bone deep type of weary that excused a power nap. At least that’s what he told himself. And even though a bit of guilt chased Bucky down into the darkness of sleep, for allowing himself this moment of weakness, sleep did claim him without any more issues.

 

As Bucky relaxed against his seat, eyes closed, the rise and fall of his chest becoming hardly noticeable and even - Steve let out the breath that he’d been holding, silently. Honestly he was amazed. And glancing back at Natasha, even she looked amazed. And the smile looked good on her too.

Steve’s eyes fell on Bucky, who was definitely asleep now, and he smiled a bit more - remembering a time when it hadn’t been nearly so easy as that.

 

_Five Months, Three Weeks Ago -- Russia_

Kharkiv, Ukraine -- 0715

“This is a waste of time, Rogers.” Tony said from where he stood on the upper most floor, twenty odd stories in fact, on the high rise of one of the most popular but also derelict hotels in Kharkiv. It was like the hotel owners had forgotten there even was any floor beyond the tenth and the roof was probably leaking. Steve was definitely being careful of where he stepped.

But the hotel wasn’t ‘five star popular’ and Steve supposed that was the point. This hotel had been ‘unofficially’ closed down years ago. And it was ‘popular’ with a specific type of crowd they were trying to shut down today. Ricochet - a splinter faction made up of mercenaries for hire - had been rumored pretty strongly to have connections so far and as deep as Hydra. And if Steve and Tony had any hope of rebuilding the Avengers and SHIELD to operating standards, they had to clean up that mess first. And it wasn’t optional.

Steve for the most part remained silent but he didn’t have to say anything for Tony to keep going. “This is a massive city. Not by New York or Los Angeles standards but big. Really big. And you know how high populations and big cities can lead to a massive amount of casualties.”

Steve fought back an inward wince, “There are always casualties in a war, Tony.” But the jab, intentional or not and it probably wasn’t, still stung. Either way he kept his eyes firmly on the rising sun over the expansive Ukrainian skyline. No it wasn’t exactly Los Angeles or New York but it was still impressive and beautiful and Steve never stopped thinking about the potential causalities in any situation. But Tony was talking out his anxiety in the only way he knew how. And that was by talking. And talking a lot.

Steve mostly knew how to filter it out until it was somewhere quietly in the background. Where he was still paying attention but where Tony wasn’t overwhelming or distracting him with the chatter. If there was anything Tony Stark could be… it was distracting.

“And don’t get me started about your boy over there-” Tony said, nodding towards Bucky, who was sprawled out on his stomach with a long range sniper rifle in hand - his eyes through the scope in the same direction as Steve’s. But most definitely not the sunrise Steve was sure.

“Замолчи.” Bucky said quietly.

Tony did a double take.

“He told you to shut up.” Steve smiled.

“I know what he said.” Tony gave Bucky another glance and a bit of a glare and Steve didn’t miss Bucky’s smirk either. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned he’s been mostly speaking in Russian this whole damn time?”

Steve fought back another wince and gave Bucky a troubled, uneasy glance himself. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed, there had just been a lot going on and they were chasing down Hydra in Ukraine and Russia. It was a given it would bring up bad memories and Steve… he’d been watching him as close as he could without Bucky telling him to ‘quit being a little punk’ - which was about the most relief inducing thing he could say. But on the other hand, it had a horrible habit of lulling Steve into a pretty deep and blind, false sense of security. Because there was a part of him that wanted to forget that Bucky now inhabited the same body as a trained, merciless assassin known as the Winter Soldier.

But like the Russian that had become less sporadic in the last few hours and now more or less constant… Steve was worried about Bucky. But he couldn’t show it too much either or people around them started getting nervous around the man. Looking at Bucky like he might relapse at any given moment or disappear. Like he was a bomb just waiting to go off. And that wore Bucky down faster than anything, kicked in guilt and shame that he felt enough of already. Reminded Bucky - and Steve - of what he’d been made into.

It reminded Steve too of all that he could lose if Bucky disappeared and the Winter Soldier reemerged. He never knew how much his best friend had been a pivotal, focal point in his life until he’d been gone. They weren’t just friends. They’d been practically dependent on each other for years. ‘Close’ hadn’t really been a word ‘close enough’ to describing their relationship. Bucky had taken care of him at his worst, and that was far often then Steve would even like to admit, but it wasn’t even about all of that. Being that close… it was like their relationship had been cemented.

Steve had always felt more than a little, a lot - lost without Bucky.

“You know he’s right over there, Tony. You can talk to him yourself.” Steve said, just a little irritated but covering that up with a smile. It only helped that Tony seemed a little apologetic.

Tony glanced over where Bucky lay on the top of the roof, more pointedly to the sniper rifle in his expertly trained hands. “You do know that those bullets are non-lethal right?”

Bucky’s, or rather the Winter Soldier’s, cool facade faltered and he noticeably grimaced - hands tightening on the sniper rifle before he could shut down either reaction. It was almost startling and even Tony seemed shocked. “Hey, whoa.” Steve said, “Tony of course he knows that-” he winced, simultaneously wanting to punch the man in the face and reassure Bucky in some way.

Tony sighed and looked a little, and awkwardly, apologetic and sorry. Like he’d promptly made an ass out of himself. And he really had. “I meant that those specific rounds are much heavier than a standard .50 caliber. And that he should adjust for this wind that’s starting to pick up.”

Bucky looked less like he’d been kicked and more like he now wanted to kick Tony. And the glare and glance away from the scope in Tony’s direction was enough Winter Soldier for Steve to promptly intervene, gentling his tone to something as calm as he could, mediating between the two men before this could get worse. “Of course he does Tony.” Steve said, holding out a hand in front of Tony and also towards Bucky, trying to keep a little bit of the peace. “Why do you think Bucky is doing his particular part of the plan? He’s the best person for it.”

 _“I’d argue that.”_ Natasha said over the secure channel between her and the three men.

“No you wouldn’t.” Steve couldn’t help but smile, dropping his hands.

And he thought he heard Natasha smile too. _“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”_

Tony glanced between Steve and Bucky but surprised Steve by saying deliberately and louder to the man with the sniper rifle nearly as long as his own body. “I’m sorry. I mean that.” And he actually sounded like he did.

Bucky was already back to being completely and irrevocably focused on his task so he didn’t respond. But Steve relaxed inwardly now that the peace was restored. At least maybe temporarily.

 

It didn’t go as smoothly as intended. Or at all actually. They were deliberately as far away as humanly possible and even beyond that, pushing the Winter Soldier to the very edge of his inhuman skills with the sniper rifle. The point was for Tony to fly in when everything went down, with Natasha close behind with a jet. To rush the targets before they could form a resistance or to recover from being caught off guard. But realizing that the meeting between the Ricochet operatives and an old, Soviet official only know as ‘Tovlahd’, was only a chain of meetings and more were to be had… Steve made the call to follow where this was leading instead. And everyone else had agreed.

There was obviously a point to be had to this drop. And it was a big one. Steve had the feeling that they’d stumbled onto something much bigger and by the way Bucky was only getting more and more nervous as things progressed… everyone had an eerie feeling that there could be a lot of secrets locked inside his head that might be even worse. There was no question that those secrets were skeletons. But Steve knew Bucky so well, even now, that he could tell something specific was bothering him about this situation.

“Buck.” Steve said quietly, when they’d gotten a moment alone. Tovlahd was sitting and waiting for something. More operatives from Ricochet? It was possible. But he’d said in the drop off that this was only the ‘first step’. He hadn’t sounded like he was being general or particularly mysterious either so much as literal. So they were following the drop.

But all Steve got was distracted, slightly agitated Russian.

“In English, Bucky.” Steve sighed. But he winced sympathetically. Bucky was getting progressively more rattled and it was kicking in Steve’s own anxieties even if he’d only ever admitted them to Sam. Anxieties of losing Bucky for good. That maybe he wasn’t even helping at all some days.

Bucky sighed too and Steve was happily surprised when he could speak English. “I’m fine, Steve.”

But Bucky sounded tired.

Steve’s heart ached, something else he was used to feeling around Bucky. And maybe not just in the modern world they lived now. Quietly he stepped closer, gentling his body language as much as he could. Steve had a tendency to try and get a little smaller, or at least his energy seemed to, according to Wanda. Maybe old habits and all that. Or rather old memories of being in a very different body. Either way, making himself the least amount of a threat always seemed to disarm Bucky the most.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Steve asked, point blank.

Bucky was actually a pretty decent liar. But Steve knew him far too well for any of that. “Same time as you did. We share the same apartment, Steve. And it’s pretty small. Heck we usually share the same bedroom.”

“Don’t lie to me, Buck. You leave when I fall asleep.”

Bucky winced and averted his eyes to the floor. At first, Bucky hadn’t been able to sleep at all. It was like his body hadn’t know what it was. Hydra had woken up Bucky on very discriminatory occasions and kept him on a very short and very tight leash, and never for extended periods of time. They’d tube fed him, strictly dictated his calorie intake, and kept him awake and active with Soviet drugs of questionable origin, pushing the super soldier serum he’d been given to it’s absolute farthest reaches of performance. Bucky hadn’t been allowed to dream. They hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

The first several months of Bucky’s rehabilitation had been the worst and they were only a month behind them. Bucky had to be restrained when he slept in the case of nightmares, medically induced because his body didn’t know what sleep even was anymore, and then weaned off _those_ drugs. But Steve had been suspecting that Bucky still wasn’t sleeping easily.

He had to be exhausted for one. And if he relapsed into fits of insomnia it was a struggle getting him back on any sort of pattern. Especially at night. Bucky at first had only wanted to sleep during the day. He didn’t feel safe sleeping at night for some reason. And there were other suspicions… The Winter Soldier was practically a personality all of it’s own. And it was a theory that it hadn’t liked the idea of relinquishing the night.

But Steve also felt like Bucky genuinely felt safer sleeping during the day.

And despite Steve’s enhanced senses, the Winter Soldier was too good at leaving the bedroom at night after he fell asleep. There had been a lot of sleepless nights in the first months of Bucky’s recovery. Steve could almost say he’s never felt more exhausted in those days but giving up on Bucky had not been an option. It was a lot better choice than Bucky putting himself back on ice out of some idea that he couldn’t be saved.

Honestly Steve had felt scared at times that Bucky would be right. But every day now, every month, was a hard fought victory. And he wasn’t going to give up on the man any day soon. Bucky had never given up on him.

Steve’s tone softened and he wasn’t upset. He really couldn’t be. Because in the end… Bucky may be leaving the bedroom but he wasn’t leaving him or the apartment. And Steve could only wonder how desperately hard that might be sometimes. “It’s all right Buck. We’ll get you back to sleep when all this is over.” But Steve sobered a little and got a lot more serious. “But Bucky, no arguments, you have to wake me up if you can’t sleep-”

“You can’t stay up all night with me Steve.” And there was that expression again, playing out on Bucky’s face, equally pained and sorry. And subtle. Almost a ghost of an expression but it was still enough to break Steve’s heart. “I have enough of a problem keeping you up at night. But if the world needs Captain America and you’re dead on your feet because of me? Steve I…”

Steve hated how he couldn’t give much of an argument to that and reached out and squeezed Bucky’s arms with a warm, reassuring grip. “We’ll work it out. We’ll have someone stay up with you. But you can’t stay up alone Buck. I can only imagine what you go through. And I won’t allow it.”

The Vision probably could stay up with Bucky. And Steve knew that he would. Either way, something was going to change with that. And when this was all over - they’d get him back on some sort of regular, human schedule. Steve knew how it went. He didn’t exactly need as much sleep either but he’d tricked his body into thinking it should sleep like everyone else. And so far, it worked.

But Bucky…

One thing was clear, even if it wasn’t clear to Bucky - he was worth it.

 

_Voronezh, Russia -- 1900_

Bucky didn’t eat in Russia. He hadn’t eaten in the Ukraine either and so Steve wasn’t entirely at fault for missing a majority of the conversation they were having at a small diner before possibly intercepting the second drop between Tovlahd and the Ricochet operatives Gustav and Clark. Natasha was keeping her eye on Gustav and Clark. Tovlahd was a trickier one. Bucky was the only one that could ghost him and get away with it and they weren’t exactly certain why. Special abilities on Tovlahd’s part? They weren’t sure.

“So anyway.” Tony said. “I said to him ‘listen you’re not taking me anywhere’ and that’s how I ended up in the back of Fury’s sedan in nothing but a pink thong with a case of donuts and nothing left of my dignity.”

Steve pushed a plate over to Bucky. “Come on Buck.” he murmured with a gentle smile.

Bucky had been attentively watching the door, but quietly. He wasn’t tense, he didn’t look uncomfortable. They’d sat in an area of the diner where he’d felt comfortable. Bucky always chose where to sit or Steve chose for him. But he certainly hadn’t had any interest in the food…. Steve wasn’t exactly concerned but he was getting there.

But Bucky just smiled, not turning his gaze from where it was pointed forward towards the door. “I’m fine.”

Steve gave him a ‘don’t kid me’ look and touched the plate. “Come on.”

Bucky looked at him now, with just the barest of sighs, but the sound almost seemed fond and affectionate. And then he briefly fixed his eyes on Steve. And Steve just smiled at him a bit more, holding those blue eyes with his own. ‘Arguing without arguing’ Bucky had liked to call it. He’d also liked to call it Steve being ‘a persistent little punk’. It wasn’t like Steve was trying or being deliberate. He wasn’t like that. But he wasn’t going to stop either. Not like he could according to Bucky.

Bucky regarded him for another moment and then took the plate in hand, pulling it closer and turning in his chair to face the table and eat it. Steve’s stomach warmly fluttered and he suppressed a bigger smile, feeling himself light up from the inside out. He put a hand on Bucky’s arm and gave it an affectionate pat and a squeeze. “Thank you.” And he meant it.

 

Sam had gotten the call from Steve sometime in the early morning in Boston which was about three in the afternoon in Russia. He’d already been getting on secure plane to Russia when he’d gotten the call but he was happy he’d ignored Steve’s urging that they were going to be fine without him. Bucky was off and running on his own two feet but Sam wasn’t completely convinced he was fine. Mostly patched together seemed like a better way to describe it.

Steve was concerned that Bucky wasn’t sleeping. And he’d said they could use the back up anyway what with the whole mission getting ‘a little more complicated’ then they’d expected. And Sam wasn’t a psychiatrist but he was damn protective of Steve. The man would damn near break himself over Bucky and had - into about a million and one pieces. And, reasonably, the man had some post traumatic stress too over losing Bucky and getting him back.

And that had led to a pretty understanding amount of separation anxiety. And while Sam wasn’t a psychiatrist, he’d dealt enough with PTSD, and Steve trusted him enough - to at least keep Bucky something close to stable. But he’d also dealt enough with soldiers who’d serve together too. That was a bond that just didn’t get broken easily. Especially in the case of those two.

“You think he’s okay?” Clint asked, sitting beside Sam on the plane.

Sam gave a look around, lowering his voice, but otherwise they had total privacy. “Which one?” he asked wryly.

Clint considered that a moment. “Both of them.”

Sam nodded. “I tell you what though… I’ll feel better when I’m in Russia.”

After the plane landed they met Steve, Tony, Bucky and a ‘secure agent of SHIELD’ from a splinter faction that had supposedly survived Hydra - at a small local diner. If Tony hadn’t thoroughly checked this group out before, taken the whole man apart just to make sure, there’s no way Clint or Sam would have trusted the agent. Clark was all right but Clint was notoriously paranoid. Especially after everything that had happened. But he was sure they all were.

“Sam.” Steve smiled, reaching out to shake the man’s hand, and he nodded towards Clint before shaking his. “Glad you guys could make it out.”

“Yeah I hate to break up the party.” Tony said, lowering his hand from his earpiece discreetly. As discreet as Captain America, half the Avengers, and billionaire Tony Stark could be in a small diner in Russia anyway. “But Natasha says they’re on the move.”

“Right I-” Steve gave a glance around and then it turned worried.

And everyone noticed pretty much immediately why, Tony actually letting out a small curse. “He was just here a minute ago.”

“Easy.” Clint said, reaching out a hand towards Steve before the man had an actual panic attack. “I’ll check around back. You know he likes to get some air sometimes.” Just be Captain America, Clint willed the man. And he knew he could. He was the leader of the Avengers for a reason.

“I’ll go around the front before meeting up with Natasha. Tony take point up top.” Steve nodded.

Clint headed out back without a word, leaving Tony to mutter about ‘unreliable best friends with PTSD’. He could have sworn he’d seen the flash of a familiar leather jacket just out of the corner of his eye as they were walking into the place and he’d dismissed it as someone leaving the diner, someone that hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t exactly managed to see if it was Bucky or not but he was going to take a guess and try.

And he’d been right. But as he rounded the corner, seeing Bucky puking up his guts on the pavement nearly without a sound, efficiently - like he knew just how, was one thing but just barely catching the man doing it to himself… Clint reached out a hand to Bucky regardless but didn’t touch. “Hey, hey whoa. Easy.” At least this explained the quick exit from the diner but he couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. “Bucky did you… are you doing this to yourself?” And he kicked himself for sounding like a stern, disbelieving parent. A friend, he firmly told himself. Not the other.

“It’s nothing like that.” Bucky looked appropriately guilty but also tired and pale. He had a hand on the brick wall, leaning into his arm, barely able to look at Clint and honestly Clint didn’t blame him and he wasn’t asking either. And Bucky winced. “They kept me under for so long, I was never - I was never awake this much. I still… I can’t eat on a mission. It’s… too keyed up I guess.”

“I actually understand.” Clint said. Reaching for his cell phone, he held up a hand to Bucky. “Just trust me, okay?”

Bucky didn’t look like he was even sure what that word meant or was anymore but didn’t stop Clint from quickly sending a text to Sam. And after that was finished, Clint fixed Bucky with a quiet, thoughtful look. “I can’t keep this from Steve…”

“I know.” Bucky briefly closed his eyes and let out a quiet breath that might have been a groan and reached up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “You have to report it. Just… after the mission all right? Please.”

“I can do that.” Clint promised him quietly.

“Thank you.” Bucky said and Clint just nodded quietly. That smile, slightly broken, appreciative and all the same it didn’t hold any blame… he could see why Steve loved the man with an almost unconditional, unwavering type of love even if they were just friends. Because he was finding it stupidly hard not to fall for the man himself. In an entirely different way.

Bucky expected what everyone thought of him and took it. The good and the bad but mostly the bad. More or less like he deserved it. And Clint was sure that was definitely what had stopped Tony from being such an asshole towards Bucky eventually. Clint could understand that anger, the animosity Tony had felt towards Bucky for what he’d done, but on the other hand he just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t be blamed for what he’d done. If anything, that security footage after the Winter Soldier had assassinated Tony’s mother and father had appeared like an obvious cry for help. Hydra had buried it deep because the Winter Soldier should be a ghost, unseen - but Clint felt more like he’d been looking at a hostage momentarily getting away from his captors to leave a message to send help. It hadn’t exactly been the Soldier that had shot out that security camera.

Clint would never forget the look in Bucky’s eyes either when he’d done it.

“I understand, in a way. Not completely.” Clint felt compelled to tell Bucky. “I did some horrible things too against my will… back in New York? I was only like that for a few weeks. Maybe less. I can’t even remember. But it was…” he swallowed heavily and his eyes fell to the pavement at the memories. Clint had to pull his eyes back up to Bucky to keep from drowning in it. “I can’t imagine decades.” he managed

He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Bucky but he’d wanted too. He’d wanted to be part of the team that went after the Winter Soldier but there hadn’t been a team. True to Steve Rogers, he’d taken that all on himself and Sam had just refused to not let him do it alone. Clint should have done the same. He could see that now. Because Bucky’s guilty expression had eased considerably. That look that made him seem open to whatever judgment anyone put on him because he ‘deserved it’ looked like it had eased too. And that was more than Clint could have hoped for.

Clint gave him a reassuring, understanding smile, and Bucky actually returned it - just as Sam came down the alley with a bottle of water and a towel. Clint reached out for both and Sam passed them over, giving Bucky an assessing, gentle look. “You all right?” he asked him.

“Yeah I think so.” Clint said as Bucky nodded quietly, unscrewing the cap to the bottle of water and passing them and the towel over to Bucky. “Just take a few minutes. I’ll handle Steve.”

“Yeah good luck with that.” Sam said.

Clint held Bucky’s eyes for a moment longer, relieved enough just by the look in his eyes that he’d made so much of a difference. More than anything, Clint could also relate to feeling irredeemable. And to have made that difference was anything he could have asked for right then. It made the phantom pain of his own experience, similar feelings he still experienced, just a little better too. And while that wasn’t why he’d done it - it was just another reason he could relate to Bucky in some small and maybe even much bigger ways.

The real problem now was going to be diverting Steve.

 

_Volgograd (Formerly Stalingrad), Russia -- 0345_

Steve didn’t even try sleeping because he knew Bucky wouldn’t be sharing the bed. After the mission had been completed with an end result bigger and better than they could have ever hoped for and with a big chunk of Hydra taken out of the picture, Steve couldn’t have even considered sleeping even if he wasn’t too wired with worry to try. Especially not after Bucky’s near breakdown after a complete lack of sleep for probably days. They had brought in Clint for a reason. Because there was probably only one other person in the world that could make Bucky’s shot.

Bucky had been hiding it well but it had all been too much. Hydra, being back in Russia, the mission. It had just been too much. And while he’d held together well… the end result hadn’t been great either. To say the least.

It had taken an argument between Bucky and Natasha in the rain, in Russian, to get Bucky to stand down. The man had been clinging on to anything to be useful, to be necessary, to be something after Hydra. But the only person in the world that could finally get him to relinquish his part of the mission to Clint had been Natasha. Maybe it was because she’d had the ability to compassionately yell at Bucky in a way Steve never could. In a way only she was capable of. Hard, unyielding and unforgiving truth in a way that was also simultaneously caring. She wouldn’t be fighting if she didn’t care.

And Bucky had known that in the end.

But he’d been a little despondent afterwards, no matter how understandingly and respectfully Clint had taken over his end of the mission.

Maybe Steve could never do what Natasha had done because he was too afraid to break Bucky. After the man had already been so completely broken and now just seemed barely held together but the cracks still obviously visible. Steve couldn’t even think of hurting Bucky. All he wanted to do was protect him, shield him. Prevent those cracks from becoming breaks.

And Steve couldn’t handle losing Bucky again. He just couldn’t.

“Steve just please go to sleep.” Bucky said and he looked downright exhausted. Steve was wondering how he was even on his feet. But even through the exhaustion, Bucky was trying to take care of him. Didn’t matter if it was 1932 or now. Apparently he’d never stopped and Steve’s heart ached affectionately. The special type of pain that only Bucky and their friendship could evoke anymore. And it hadn’t always been that way.

“Not without you Buck.” Steve said.

Bucky gave him a pained, disbelieving look. “Oh yeah well what if that isn’t possible?”

Steve smiled and stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in. “The way you look right now? I think it’s a good possibility.” And as he wrapped his arms around Bucky, he quietly shushed the man when he initially fought. And it wasn’t really much of a fight at all. It wasn’t like Bucky would, in his right mind, or that he could right now either. “Come on Buck.” Steve murmured, his expression sobering with a concerned, sympathetic wince.

Bucky relaxed his arms where they’d been mostly against his chest and abruptly dropped them, putting his hands on Steve’s arms instead. “Steve…”

“You’re okay, Bucky.” _And don’t you dare say you’re not worth this._ Steve would fight him until the end of their days over that one but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to. More than anything, Bucky had never once made him feel like he didn’t belong exactly right beside him - even when Steve had been a lot smaller and frail. And to return that now, even if he could just a little, there was not a single question in Steve’s mind that Bucky was worth everything. And more.

And Bucky dropped his arms, let out a quiet breath, and his forehead fell down to Steve’s shoulder and chest. “You are stubborn.” he muttered quietly. But it sounded more affectionately exasperated than irritated. And Steve just smiled.

“Yeah.” he chuckled. “I am.”

 

_Present -- New York_

Steve was considering trying to sleep, like Bucky was working on doing on right now, but he didn’t think he could just yet. A shower wouldn’t hurt and he liked to wait an hour to make sure Bucky actually fell asleep, to make sure he wasn’t laying in bed staring at the ceiling wide awake or that he didn’t need a sedative - something stronger than his Ativan. Which thankfully was a rare circumstance.

Sam gave him a knowing look from across the kitchen, where he’d grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Go on and take a shower. I’ll be here.”

Steve pushed himself away from the island counter, “You saying I need one?” he asked wryly, but he was already going. The quiet knock on the door turned him around though. And he shared a glance with Sam but was already crossing the room to answer it. It was late and it wasn’t like he didn’t get visitors… but not all that many besides Sam. It wasn’t that he intentionally distanced himself. He just didn’t exactly know how to bridge a eighty year gap half the time.

Opening the door, Steve was even more surprised to see Clint on the other side of it.

He was out of uniform and in a leather jacket, casually dressed. But he hadn’t apparently gone home yet. “Hey.” Clint smiled. “You mind if I come in?”

“Of course not. Come on in.” Steve said, immediately opening the door and stepping aside to let him in.

Clint saw Sam though and hesitated and Sam raised his hands. “Hey it’s okay. I’ll just be in the other room.”

“Thanks.” Clint smiled, motioning a little awkwardly between him and Steve. “This won’t take long.”

And now Steve was intrigued. As soon as Sam had left the room, he would have asked, but he didn’t have to. Clint pretty much got down to business but Steve could see this wasn’t exactly easy for him. And the man’s smile and brief chuckle confirmed it. “This may seem… strange. But Laura and I… we have an understanding. It’s not an open relationship - nothing like that. But we’ve… considered, as a couple, dating another person. Together.”

“Okay...” Steve said, trying his best to understand. It definitely wasn’t his era anymore. And then it suddenly dawned on him, all at once, but Clint might be driving at. “ _Bucky_?”

Clint immediately reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, squeezing it nervously. “You… you knew that he goes both ways right? I’m making a mess of this aren’t I? You come from a completely different time period and-”

“No, I knew!” Steve let out a frustrated breath, trying to explain a little, even if he was still struggling to understand himself. “It’s just… you’re right we didn’t exactly have a choice back then. We couldn’t - the risk. And I admit, back then, because I was so sick - we could barely afford the apartment we had. If either one of us had been caught I -”

Clint raised an eyebrow at Steve. “You... you too? Or… you two, together?”

Now Steve managed a laugh. “No, no Bucky he… he was too busy chasing anything with a skirt. I only caught him once, when he was drunk-” And he immediately lost his smile after that. “Bucky felt horrible for it… I barely managed to talk him out of something stupid.” And Steve’s eyes fell to the floor. “We decided anything… anything like that was too much of a risk. Especially with Bucky in the service.” Steve met Clint’s eyes, trying to find a smile. “I don’t know what I was. The girls wouldn’t look at me because I was a small, sick kid from the streets of Brooklyn. I had nothing but Bucky. And Bucky… well he could wink and smile at any pretty girl and get anything he wanted. But for some reason he stuck around with me. So I don’t know what Bucky wanted either.”

Clint had avidly listened with his hands on his hips, and drew in a slow breath now, speaking after a quiet pause. “Wow maybe… maybe I really should give him some time.”

“Maybe not.” Steve admitted.

“Yeah?” Clint asked. “You wouldn’t… well I came here to ask if I could ask him out on a date. If you’d…” he shifted a bit more awkwardly from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. “If you’d be okay with that.”

Steve gave him a shocked smile and laughed. “Am I really that bad?”

He knew he was protective of Bucky but… had he been too protective? Something inside Steve wanted to fiercely argue that he hadn’t. But if Clint felt like he had to go through Steve to ask Bucky on a date.

Clint just smiled, biting back his own laugh, “Yeah.” And his expression sobered a little. “But no one blames you for that Steve. And I’ve never heard Bucky complain either.”

“Yeah well you don’t live with him.” Steve chuckled.

“But complaining would be progress, am I right?” Clint smiled.

“Right.” Steve immediately agreed. “It really would be.”

Clint let out a breath. “Look. I know this is… I know this is different. But I really do love Laura. With everything that I am. I wouldn’t be here actually if she hadn’t shoved me back out the door as soon as I’d come home.”

Steve laughed, “I’m learning. Still. But I’m learning. And… if you two people - wow maybe I should have Tony explain this to me more.”

“No you shouldn’t.” Clint shook his head with a groan and a laugh. “ _Please_ don’t do that.”

Steve found himself laughing too. “Yeah okay I get your point.”

Clint dropped his hands from his hips. “Did I make a complete mess of this?”

“No. I don’t think Bucky’s sleeping but I did put him to bed for the night. Have you… I know you’ve gotten close to him Clint I just… I didn’t have any idea.” Steve said, lowering his voice as he led him to Bucky’s room, where the door was closed and the man should be asleep. Steve didn’t think he would be. He was hypersensitive to noise and he’d know, even if he couldn’t make out their conversation, that someone else other than Sam was in the apartment.

“I don’t think he did either.” Clint murmured, a little troubled by the idea. “It’s like we both saw what was happening but he didn’t believe any of it.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed grimly. “That makes a whole lot of sense.”

They both fell quiet as soon as they were within hearing distance of his room, Steve leaning closer to the door when they were standing in front of it. “Hey, Buck. Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said from the other side and Steve reached down to open the door for Clint.

And he nodded him inside. “Go ahead.”

“You mind if I come in?” Clint asked, resting his hand on the inside of the doorway.

“No that’s… sure that’s fine.”

Steve smiled to cover up his wince. Bucky seemed surprised to see Clint and he couldn’t help but think of a time… a very long time ago, when Bucky practically commanded a room. Lit it up like he belonged there. Could talk to anyone, laugh with anyone. Steve used to marvel at that. Now…

“Take your time.” he felt compelled to tell Clint. “I’ll be getting in the shower but Sam will be here.”

“Thanks.” Clint smiled at him appreciatively.

And Steve left before he forgot how.

 

Clint stepped into the sparsely finished room that was Bucky’s, right beside Steve’s. There was even a door between the rooms just in case, for whatever reason, Steve needed to get to Bucky immediately for whatever reason. But there was barely any personal effects.

Strangely though, the chair in the corner with a leather jacket draped over it and the worn notepad sitting on the seat was strangely and perfectly Bucky. The only thing else in the room was a heavy set of black out curtains and a waist high dresser next to the chair. But the walls were bare, the floors too, the apartment older so everything was wood.

The only thing else was the bed, which was up against a wall. But it was a special bed that Clint had never seen before. He knew that Bucky slept restrained, and he knew Steve struggled with doing the restraining. But it was necessary, it kept Bucky calm, it kept him from the fear of wondering if he might just disappear. Have a nightmare, hurt someone, wake up somewhere else entirely. Hell maybe even wake up in the arms of Hydra. The restraints were designed by experts that had jobs Clint didn’t want to even think about. And they were specifically engineered with just enough adamantium to make them unbreakable. Even for the Winter Soldier.

Months ago, when Clint had talked a very confused Bucky off the edge of a roof, he’d tucked him into hospital restraints similar when Steve had struggled to bring himself to do it. And he’d found out about how Bucky slept, the bed, even though he’d never seen it.

“You want me to-” Clint said, gesturing to the restraints.

Bucky was partially sitting up, his legs slightly elevated. He might not even be able to sleep flat on his back, hell Clint wouldn’t blame him.

“Yeah if…” Bucky almost seemed a little self-conscious. “If it bothers you.” And the smile he gave was one of those ‘smiles that turned into winces’ - like a twitch almost. “I try to keep Steve from doing it twice.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” Clint easily assured him, reaching out to do undo the restraints. There were two around his wrists, a pretty damn thick one around his chest, around his neck, hips and ankles. It would definitely feel a little better to talk to Bucky without them. It was good that they made him so relaxed but maybe even dangerously compliant. And Clint wanted him fully aware of this conversation.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked as he sat up once was free, nervous rubbing as his human wrist with a metal hand. Clint knew it was a nervous gesture because while the restraints were snug, they were never too tight. Especially when Steve did it.

And Bucky gave another wince, finding a genuine smile this time with a little bit of a laugh. “Wow that was… awkward. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Clint chuckled as he lowered the end of the bed with the remote so that it was flat, moving to sit down beside him, their knees comfortably touching, “I can’t promise you I won’t be any less awkward.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see that.”  
Clint reached out and gave his knee a gentle squeeze, quick, not letting the touch linger and keeping it friendly. “I wanted to explain, a little better, about what I said in the jet.”

“Okay…” Bucky nodded.

“Have you ever heard of a polyamorous relationship?” Boy he should have used that word on Steve before Tony could.

“No.” Bucky admitted.

And Clint broke it down, as easily he could, also bringing up the important fact that there was no pressure for all partners to be sexually involved with each other. Everything happened just like dating might, naturally, by seeing what happened. What evolved. Not out of any sort of expectation.

“So… tonight when I got home Laura said it was okay if we dated. No commitments for now if you want, I’ll understand. No pressure. No expectations. And if you’re not ready? I’ll understand that too. Believe me I will.” Clint said.

Bucky’s gaze fell to his hands in his lap and Clint was actually worried the man was going to back out because… well of course he was going to.

“Bucky… can I call you that?” Clint asked, resting a hand warmly on his knee and leaving it there now. He didn’t seem to be adverse to touch. Maybe even the opposite.

“I don’t know.” Bucky laughed just a bit but nodded. “Yeah. It’s all I got.”

Clint gave him a smile. “You’ve got a lot more than that.” he said intently.

Bucky almost did a double take but he definitely ended up effectively speechless. It made Clint’s chest uncomfortably ache, just wishing he could tell this man half of the things he found so attractive and incredible about him. When one thing, one simple thing, could render him so speechless - all Clint could manage was to give his leg a warm squeeze.

“If you don’t feel ready, I won’t blame you.” Clint assured him. “But I don’t want you to say no because of some misplaced idea that you’re not capable of being loved. Because you are. Dammit you are. ”

The words seem to take the breath right out of Bucky because the one he let out was pretty shaky and he blinked, maybe he was even blinking back tears.

“How do you know you’re not missing the mark?” Bucky tried to tease him.

Clint just reached out, brushing Bucky’s hair back over his shoulder so that he could see his eyes - so that the man couldn’t hide. “You know I don’t miss.” he said earnestly. And maybe it was cheesy but he was damn serious.

But he was rewarded with Bucky giving an unsteady, almost hesitant nod. “What are you asking?”

“Dinner with Laura and I. Thought somewhere public might be a little overwhelming. And the kids will be with friends - so it’ll just be the three of us.”

Bucky only hesitated a second. “Yeah. Before you change your mind.”

“No chance of that.” Clint assured him with a smile.

And then he surprised him with something else. “This week too, soon?” And Bucky managed a somewhat shaky laugh but Clint could see that the humor behind it was genuine. “The less time I have to over think everything would be nice.”

Clint could understand that but in different ways. When he wanted something, he usually went after it. It wasn’t actually like him to wait. Maybe because life was too unpredictable when it came right down to it. “Tomorrow night too soon?”

“No. No that would be great.”

“Good.” Clint smiled warmly, and he motioned back to the bed. “Let’s get you tucked back in.”

When Clint buckled him back into the restraints, it was with a little less of the friendly distance in his touch, and more with a loving type of efficiency. He even took a little extra time, checking the straps, and making sure they weren’t too snug. It didn’t take much time but Clint still caught Bucky’s eyes with his own whenever he could, showing him without words and a smile that there was nothing about this that was going to scare Clint off. Not today, not tomorrow. And he had an ironclad feeling in his gut that Laura would feel the same.

 

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

III

It was still storming and it was still raining by the time Clint got back to the Homestead. Worse, it kept raining through the night until the morning and by then, the meadows were a muddy mess - the horses didn’t want to go out. And the ones that did, immediately gave themselves a mud bath that would drag in everything when they came back into the stables. The whole idea of watching the two mares and their colts was so that the Robertsons could finish moving up north. But by this point, they were getting to be too much of a handful for even Clint. And he usually liked a challenge.

Clint smiled at that last thought. Bucky was coming over tonight if everything went according to plan. Laura was excited, the kids didn’t have any idea what was going on. Only that their parents were having a night for themselves, Lila was going to a slumber party, and Cooper would be at the same house with his own friends. Either way - Cooper was old enough to get the idea and even Lila was starting to catch on. Even if they didn't have any idea about Bucky just yet.

Man. They did grow up fast.

“Coop!” Clint called, tossing him the old baseball he’d found out back. “Tell me what year you think that came from?”

Cooper caught it with two hands, a nice catch too, and studied it closely - turning the ball over in his hands. “Uh. I’d say 1950s maybe? Wow dad where did you find this? It’s ancient.”

 _Yeah and the guy I might be dating tonight is about twenty years older than that baseball._ Instead, Clint said. “You know Captain America is older than that baseball.”

“Wow…” Cooper whispered, staring down at the ball in his hands.

Clint reached out and pulled Cooper into a one arm hug with a quiet laugh as they headed back for the house. “Found it out back behind that old tool shed we keep saying we’ll tear down.” And he ruffed up Cooper’s hair with a hand, smiling when the kid laughed and tolerated it. He’d always been glued to Clint at the hip and Clint wouldn’t catch himself complaining - not in a million years. Cooper was also becoming pretty invested in baseball and he was good at it too so Clint was happy to encourage it.

Clint wouldn’t brag too much and say he’d inherited his father’s amazing reflexes and hand to eye coordination but… nah. He definitely would. Cooper was turning into a real crack shot with the bow too but mostly a baseball bat and that was plenty okay for Clint.

“Honey!” Laura called from the porch, holding something in her hand, that looked to be a phone. And it was the urgency in her tone that got his attention.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Captain Rogers.”

 _That_ phone. “I am determined to lose that thing.” he murmured under his breath, giving Cooper’s shoulder a squeeze and jogging quickly for the porch. He was up the steps in less than a breath and a heartbeat, giving Laura a grateful look for answering it. He couldn’t believe he’d left it in the house.

“Yeah go ahead.” Clint immediately said.

_“You know I wouldn’t call you-”_

“You know me better than that, Cap. Give it to me straight.” Clint said, hearing that Rogers was a little out breath. And even a ‘little out of breath’ was enough that this situation was probably a big one. “Is it Bucky?”

 _“Not Bucky this time.”_ A grunt and the sound of a shield colliding with something heavy. _“Me. We’re pinned down up north. Not far from you actually. The sooner you can get here-”_

“You got it.” Clint said, already heading for the secure room upstairs, disguised in the closet. Which had been getting a lot of action lately. And now it felt a bit more personal. ‘Not far’ from the Homestead was still too close for comfort. “What am I up against?”

_“Thor is calling them ‘Rithori’. Shadow creatures from some other realm. We upset something big up here and we’ve got our hands full.”_

“Just send me the coordinates and I’ll be there.”

_“I can do one better. Iron Man should already be incoming.”_

“Roger that.”

Clint looked up as he was changing into his uniform, surprised to see the door opening. And the only one that could do open it up was Laura. But it was Stark out of uniform, who thumbed behind him as he descended the short flight of stairs. “Laura let me in. You have a great wife by the way.”

“You can’t have her.” Clint smiled.

“I’m not the settling down type.” Stark put something on the small utility table in the middle of the equally small room. “Think you can modify your arrows to handle some of these babies if I give you a hand?”

“Yeah what are these?” Clint asked, pulling down his uniform top and studiously eyeing the glowing white capsules Stark had put down on the table.

“Something I whipped up on the fly to deal with these ‘shadow creatures’ Thor says we pissed off-”

Clint raised an eyebrow at Tony as he picked one of the capsules up.

“Yeah well-” Tony shrugged. “It’s not like we started it, but that’s beside the point. They can be detonated by remote and it’s a pretty small trigger. If you-”

“I got it.” Clint said, already taking out a weighted, heavier but very thin arrow to compensate for the weight of the small devices, which were practically bombs in miniature. He was definitely going with the Gamemaster bow for this little outing and with Stark’s help, they quickly outfitted nearly fifty of the bombs to arrows. Stark also attached the trigger to the bow itself so with a squeeze, they’d detonate. Either way it was going to take serious, precise aim and inhuman timing to get it all right. But Clint did like a challenge.

 

And a ‘challenge’ might have been a considerable understatement. Or asking for it, in this case, definitely asking for it. The arrows were incredibly effective, Stark had done damn good work there. But when it was all said and done, Clint had ended up flat on his back feeling like he’d been hit by something a lot like a truck. Like his whole body had been slammed against something violently, twisted inside out, and put back together again in all the wrong ways. They’d all been doing fine. Thor had thrown himself right into a vortex to shut down the artifact responsible for the gateway into the dark realm the Rithori had come from. Angry, unsettled spirits of the dead Thor had basically called the things. If that wasn’t unsettling enough.

But being thrown into one of those portals as a human being? Not a fun experience.

And Clint was determined to pay Hydra back personally for the hell he felt like now.

How he had ended up on the other side of the portal was a massive blur. One minute he’d been sucked into a soul devouring void of eternal blackness and then, in the next instant, he was crashing to the ground into the muddy, waterlogged meadows behind his house. But he’d had the distinct impression of someone at his back, holding onto him, possibly shoving him back out into the world of the living.

And it had been Bucky.

And it had been Bucky when some of the Rithori had followed through behind them, standing over Clint’s prone form as Hawkeye battled against unconsciousness. And it had been Bucky with single handed precision - his HK MR loaded with a clip of ammunition made from the same technology as the arrows Stark had given Clint - that had taken down several of the Rithori without moving an inch from where he’d stood over Clint.

What had nearly killed him? Was the shock of suddenly seeing Cooper on the field of battle.

But Bucky… no. Not Bucky. He was tripped and triggered and off and running as the Winter Soldier. It happened in combat more often than it didn’t. He couldn’t control it and sometimes he was in and out. And in really rough situations, like this one, sometimes Bucky was just entirely out.

So the Soldier, obviously assessing Clint’s near desperate yell at Cooper to get the hell down, had grabbed his son and pulled him close - shielding him with his own body as the shadowy, almost skeletal wraiths of the Rithori came fast and hard. And damn they were angry. And then the Soldier had pushed him down firmly by the shoulder towards Clint, who pulled Cooper down and shielded him with his own body as much as he could, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight.

The Soldier easily switched positions, never tripping over Clint, never faltering as he turned to the left, right, and whichever direction they came from - his boots nimbly stepping around limbs and Clint's upper torso.

Until suddenly - everything had gone quiet.

“Okay…” Clint focused on breathing first and foremost, blinking against the sting of sweat in his eyes. He didn’t think he could get up yet so he wasn’t going to even try. With Rogers assuring him that the situation was cleared over the comms, Hawkeye had also assured the captain that they didn’t need back up. Eyeing the Winter Soldier - Bucky entirely gone - practically guarding him where he lay and not sure what to make of his son now… he refused to think he’d made a bad call.

“Dad?” Cooper asked worriedly and he sounded a little scared.

“You’re okay, Coop.” Clint reassured him, and looked up at the Soldier. “I’m going to need you to put that weapon down, Soldier. Can you do that for me?” And he forced himself to remain calm. The Soldier was eyeing his son like… no. He wasn’t eyeing him like a threat at all - of course not. The Winter Soldier was watching his son with a mixture of cold, unsure confusion. And while it wasn’t trained on Cooper or either of them, the weapon was still firmly in both hands. Clint had a gut instinct that he wouldn’t kill a kid and he _knew_ deep down that the Soldier wouldn’t hurt either of them. And no one was giving the Weapon orders now. No one except Clint.

And the Soldier had done nothing but protect the both of them like it had been his sole mission to do so. And he’d done that by himself. He’d just saved their lives maybe even a couple times over and Clint couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of gratitude and love towards the Soldier just then. There was no way he could measure it.

“Soldier.” Clint urged him from where he still held Cooper in his arms. “If you can hear me, if you understand me-”

“я понимаю.” the Asset told him. ‘I understand’.

“Russian. All right.” Clint said. Russian might be better he decided. _Thank you Natasha._

Speaking low, and calm and now in Russian, Clint tried again. “You are going to turn the safety off… and hand the gun to my son. Do you understand?”

“да.” the Soldier said. ‘Yes’. And man, was his voice deep in comparison. When he was switched on… it wasn’t comforting. It was exactly the opposite. It was actually deeply, deeply unsettling. But Clint, regardless, actually felt safer now than he might anywhere else.

“Coop. He’s going to give you the gun and I need you to take it from him-”

“Dad I can’t-” Cooper said, eyeing Bucky with a bravery Clint was infinitely proud of. But he was scared and Clint didn’t blame him for that either, not in the least bit. The Winter Soldier was standing over both of them, and even if he was doing it protectively, he was armed. And he was the Winter Soldier. Nothing about the man looked anything but alarming at the moment.

Clint thought fast. “You remember Tango?”

Cooper hesitated. “The colt?”

“Yeah. Bucky’s a lot like that right now.” Clint said. “Just put your hands up, nice and easy where he can see them, and make yourself low. He’s going to hand you the gun so he can get me out of here. Stand up and do that for me Coop. You can do it. I know you can.”

Recalling the wild, stubborn colt they’d rescued last year who’d nearly been beat to the inch of his life by an old farmer who’d passed away - the Bartons had cared for it until someone more qualified could take it in. They’d learned a lot about life through that little, beat up colt. And it was obviously the push of courage Cooper needed. He stood and warily left his dad’s arms and when he was about five feet away, raised his hands carefully and slowly.

The Soldier reached back for the gun and Cooper got a little more nervous-

“It’s all right.” Clint assured Cooper, relieved with what he was seeing. Surprisingly, something he hadn’t told the Asset to do. “He’s taking out the clip. Take that first.”

A tentative, small hand reached for it and the Soldier passed it over. “Attaboy, Cooper.” Clint praised. “You’re doing great. He’s not going to hurt us.”

And then the gun itself, which was practically as long as Cooper was tall. But the kid grabbed it by the strap and awkwardly maneuvered it around his shoulder, staring at the Soldier with wide eyes as he backed away slowly. But he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Actually… he wasn’t looking all that afraid at all.

“That’s it.” Clint told everyone. “Perfect.” And he looked at the Soldier, adding a Russian translation. That he'd done good. But Clint's head swam and he had to rest it on the ground a moment, closing his against the spinning, gray sky. Everything was spinning and he felt like hell still-

“Dad?” Cooper asked, alarmed.

And Clint felt metal fingers on his chest just a heartbeat before his son's worried exclamation. “I’m okay!” he assured Cooper quickly, even before he was opening his eyes, managing a laugh as he tried to keep his stomach quiet. “I’m all right. I’ll be even better in a minute.” And he fixed his eyes on the Soldier, who was watching him with cold, assessing concern. But was there something else going on in those eyes? Seemed like. “Bucky?” Clint couldn’t help but ask, reaching up to put a hand on his leg. “You in there somewhere buddy?”

The Soldier’s lips twitched, almost into a frown, but that was it.

“Sorry.” Clint let out a quiet breath, long and slow, and switched back to Russian. “Help me up.” and he reached a hand out. “Here.”

The Soldier immediately grasped his hand. “Easy-” Clint managed to tell him before the Asset pulled him to his feet too quick. He almost didn’t tell him in time but surprisingly, he listened, grasping Clint with his human hand too and helping him upright. And Clint had to keep calm for his kid but damn. He was feeling the effects of whatever the Rithori had done. Obviously that shadowy teleportation effect wasn’t meant for human beings and Clint was feeling fortunate that his insides were all in their proper places. He hoped.

“All right. We’re good.” he smiled at Cooper as he got a good grasp on the Soldier’s jacket, managing a laugh under his breath, purely for his son’s benefit. To mostly show him that his dad wasn’t dying. But temporarily for the Asset too, who was now looking at Clint for orders. “We’re good.” he grunted quietly and reminded himself that his boots were on the ground, up was still up, and so on and so forth. The dizziness wasn’t bad. It wasn’t constant. The world just had a tendency to lurch uncomfortably when he provoked it. By moving. “Let’s go.” he said to the Soldier in Russian and then nodded at Cooper. “Show’em the way home, Coop.”

It wasn’t too long of a walk. Clint was feeling better gradually, a lot less dizzy, but didn’t feel too confident about letting go of the Soldier’s broad, strong shoulders just yet. The Soldier had a good grip on him too, diligently keeping him upright, and Clint didn’t want to look too closely into it but… he felt like the Soldier cared. Maybe Bucky was slipping through. Either he cared, or he cared a great deal about doing his job well. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t taking orders from abusive, manipulative, terrifying Hydra assholes.

Clint did know that Bucky was entirely checked out. Because he sure as hell wouldn’t have allowed himself to be anywhere near Clint’s kids and Clint was two ways about it. The ‘Asset’ was a weapon. He had a list of words that would and could trigger him and fortunately next to zero people knew those words, and Clint agreed that there were a thousand one other things that might trigger the Soldier. But the way he figured it - the Soldier needed a handler, the weapon needed someone to wield it. And Clint would _never_ put his kids in harms way. Usually when Bucky checked out and the Soldier checked in, it was during a battle or a fight and the Captain was never separated from Bucky. Always around to direct the Soldier. Always there to give the orders.

Clint was understandably cautious and he’d take it easy, keep some distance between the Soldier and everyone else sure. But mostly to keep the Soldier from getting overwhelmed or confused. Domestic situations, Clint was sure, would be entirely out of his scope of understanding.

Laura was standing at the backdoor, looking as worried and concerned as she probably should. But Clint just wanted to tell her that everything was okay. He was fine. Cooper was fine. Clint actually wasn’t surprised he’d run after the horses when they'd spooked by everything going on, even if it had been happening a good distance away. But it was terrifying to think that the Rithori had gotten that close to spook them in the first place.

Laura was coming out the back door but Clint raised a hand. “Hey, whoa.” he said. And her eyes immediately landed on the Soldier, stopping where she stood, “I’m all right. Just take that gun from Cooper and put it on the table for me, could you? Safety’s off. Clip is out of it.”

Laura nodded, even if she didn’t know much about guns, and reached out for Cooper’s shoulder to guide him closer - taking the heavy gun that was slung over his shoulder against his back and the large clip too. “How badly are you hurt? Where are the other Avengers?”

“I told them we were fine. They’ll send someone out when I call.” And quietly Clint said to the Soldier in Russian. “All right let me go.”

Clint eased away from the man when the Soldier did as he asked and gave his chest a firm pat. “Just stay where you are for me. Will you? Stay right here.”

Looking up as Laura came back from the kitchen, Cooper watching from the kitchen with his hands pressed up against the glass. Clint he took the back porch stairs up to her two at a time. “I’m a mess or I’d kiss you.” he smiled, couldn’t resist a teasing grin either.

“Like I care.” Laura affectionately scolded him with dark, concerned eyes, reaching up to put her hands on the side of his face and pull him down for a kiss anyway. Brief. Hands finding his shoulders too. “You sure you’re all right?” she demanded, looking over at the Soldier. Who was standing there. Waiting. Just as Clint had ordered.

“I am.” Clint said, eyes finding the Soldier too. And he reached down for his uniform top. “I’m going to clean us both up out here. We’re a mess. If you could just keep the kids inside.”

“No problem… does he-?” Laura hesitated, frowning sympathetically at the Soldier.

“Does he what?” Clint asked, reaching down to take off his muddy boots.

“ _Who_ is he right now? Does he know you, us? That’s not Bucky… is it?” Laura asked, resting her hands on his chest.

The Soldier didn’t even blink. “Nope. But he knows me.” Clint said. And sighed softly. “He’s absolutely checked out right now. _He_ is the Winter Soldier. What Hydra made him into.” he murmured. “But he’s all right.” Clint said, giving her arms a quick squeeze. “I wouldn’t have brought him home if I thought he’d hurt any of us.”

“He won’t.” Laura surprised him by saying. And he gave her a look, with a smile.

But her expression was a serious one. “Look at him, Clint. He’s scared. Can’t you see it?”

Clint looked back at the Soldier, narrowing his eyes a bit and frowning in concern, studying him more closely. He hadn’t stopped watching them. When Laura had spoken, the Soldier had stilled all over, his entire body going quiet. But mostly he was watching Clint, waiting for orders, waiting for something. But Clint could see it too. The fear that was underneath that compliance. This was a man, a human being, who had been mentally manipulated into something else entirely. In the worst, possibly the most twisted way possible.

Hydra had probably manipulated him purposely to be completely, entirely obedient without question or fail. To strip him away of even the most basic way to act for himself.

And Clint felt a deep, residing twinge of sympathetic pain from his own experiences of something vaguely similar.

Clint gave Laura’s arms a squeeze, directing his voice to the Soldier. “Hold position there.” he told him. “Understand?”

“да.” the Soldier replied. ‘Da’. Yes. Same as before, Clint noted. There was next to zero variation in his responses.

Clint reached down for Laura’s hand and led her back into the kitchen. She didn’t seem to want to go with, looking over her shoulder at the Soldier, curious. But she obviously wanted to help. After all the talks of dating Bucky, the idea of starting a relationship with the man, this was the first time Laura had even seen him. Let alone met him.

 _“Hawkeye?”_ Steve suddenly asked him over the secure channel, Clint still wearing the earpiece.

“Yeah go ahead, Cap.” Clint said as he grabbed a couple of blue buckets, filling them up with warm water in the sink while he kept a diligent, watchful eye on the Soldier.

_“How’s Bucky?”_

Clint glanced over at Laura. “Honey can you grab my soap and shampoo from upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Laura said softly, taking her eyes away from the Soldier, her eyes traveling to the gun on the table before she rounded it to go get the soap and shampoo. Cooper’s eyes met Clint’s and Clint briefly, warmly put a hand on his shoulder, but responded to Rogers as he looked back out the window.

“Yeah he’s still not home, Cap. And just between you and me…”

 _“Bucky can’t hear us.”_ Rogers answered the unspoken question.

“I’m pretty sure Hydra is still gunning for him. They’re focused, too focused. When Bucky comes into play, their first priority becomes flipping that switch. I understand they’d want the Winter Soldier back but something doesn’t feel right here.”

_“I agree. I’ve been considering pulling Bucky out of these missions but…”_

Clint grimaced. “Yeah you know that won’t go over well, Cap. And I don’t think that would be good for him either.” But he did a mental full stop, tilting his head just a bit, catching the Soldier’s eyes with his own. He was reading his lips. And Clint’s mouth parted a bit in shock, the Soldier immediately, dutifully looking away. “How…” Clint tried to phrase it better. “Just how aware is he when that switch is flipped?”

_“Aware enough to disappear if he thinks he should. Why?”_

“No reason.” Clint said.

_“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to-”_

“I’m sure.” Clint replied immediately. Steve had taken the full weight of his best friend’s recovery squarely on his Super Soldier shoulders. In the first brutal months, he’d practically run himself into the ground, and Clint had visited Steve in the hospital after the helicarrier fight he’d had with the Winter Soldier. He’d never thought he’d see something that could do that much damage to Captain America. The man had looked like he’d been hit by a truck. “He’s all right, Captain. Laura and I will take good care of him until you can come get him.”

 _"I know you will."_ Steve hesitated, but it was Captain America who made the call. And the right one. _“All right. Thor is pretty unhappy with what Hydra unsettled but we should be finished here soon. Give or take an hour.”_

“No problem, captain. We got it covered here.”

Clint thanked Laura for the soap when she brought it over and looked down at Lila, who was tugging on his arm to get his attention. “But why is the man outside? It might rain again. And his arm will rust.”

Clint almost laughed. “Well people make him a little nervous honey. He’s just scared right now is all. I’ll be bringing him inside when we don’t look like mud monsters.”

Lila practically rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen a _lot_ more mud, daddy.”

“Yeah but not on you right?” Clint asked, Lila squealing with a laugh as he teasingly reached out to swipe some mud along her cheek. Even if he intentionally missed, she retreated to her mother’s side, sticking her tongue out at her father from behind the protection of Laura’s legs.

Clint gave her a playful glare with a chuckle and lifted the two large buckets of warm, soapy water by the handles and headed outside, Laura holding the door open for him. “I’ll bring down some fresh clothes, towels, and blankets for the both of you. We’re lucky it’s so warm out.”

“Yeah we are.” Clint agreed.

“You think he’s hungry?” Cooper asked.

“Inside, kids.” Clint chuckled. It was already like they were considering keeping him. But the Soldier wasn’t a stray dog. Well… not exactly. “And stay inside with your mother.”

“Maybe I should make us all some lunch.” Laura suggested, ushering the two kids back inside.

“He should be hungry. Shouldn’t you big guy?” Clint asked the Soldier, in English. He was a big believer that it may not be the language, but the tone. And apparently the Soldier might be reading his lips and understanding spoken English word anyway. Maybe he only responded to Russian which gave Clint a somewhat queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Their closest neighbor, who lived miles away, had a friendly German Shepard that only responded to commands in Swedish, the man’s nationality. Their neighbor said it was because he better responded to his voice and was less likely to take commands from anyone else.

At least the Soldier was taking commands from Clint.

And Clint glanced back at Laura as he set the buckets of warm water down on the concrete patio. “He pretty much has the same metabolism as Steve but I’m not sure what we could get him to keep down.” he hesitated to say the name, but did, wincing sympathetically at the Soldier. “Hydra never kept him awake for very long. I told you about all that.”

“Do you think he could keep down some mashed potatoes? Applesauce… baby food?”

Clint looked back at Laura, surprised. “Honey you’re a genius.”

Laura smiled with a chuckle. “I’ll see what we have.”

Clint shared the gentle laugh and looked back at the Soldier. “All right let’s… let’s get you out of all this.” And he switched to Russian. “I’m going to undress you. Okay?” And he reached out, and when the Soldier didn’t argue or recoil from his touch, Clint did just that. First the jacket, which was still soaking wet, and then the black undershirt beneath it after checking to make sure the kids were definitely out of sight and not watching.

And his eyes immediately fell to Bucky’s shoulder - the one attached to the metal arm, taking it in quietly, the scarring around the edges. He couldn’t help it. He was impulsively observant. The Soldier just seemed to get a little more despondent being so exposed but Clint… he couldn’t help himself. He pressed gently closer, watching for any signs of discomfort, any at all. He didn’t push it too strongly but he at least wanted the Soldier, wanted Bucky, to feel him. And compelled, Clint reached out and touched the scars over his chest along the edges of that arm, hand wet from the rain.

The Soldier’s eyes fell closed and suddenly, he let out a quiet, shuddering breath. His metal hand reached up for Clint’s, cautiously closing his fingers around Clint’s hand, and Clint realized suddenly that he had someone else.

“Hey, Buck.” he smiled.

Blue eyes met his and Clint leaned forward, grasping his hand back as he pressed a slow, tender kiss to Bucky’s forehead. And he just stayed there a moment, marveling at how practically smooth that transition had been. And, lips hovering just a breath from Bucky's forehead, Clint smiled that much more.

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* Ohhh I accidentally made it long again. Also - all I listened to during this chapter was 'Kindly Calm Me Down' by Meghan Trainor and if anyone wants to steal that for a WinterHawk video you are more than welcome. More than. Absolutely. Take it. Do it.

 

 

 **IV**  
Laura Barton wouldn’t say her marriage was conventional. Oh by all standards and all definitions - absolutely. But she knew that Clint was bisexual. He’d just left a rocky relationship with another man when they’d met and dating had only come much later. And she’d dated him carefully. Clint had been sweet, charming, and almost a lot to handle and Laura would admit - she’d fallen for him pretty much straight away. But Laura had known he’d been hurt before and they’d both had to be careful. With both of their hearts.

The subject of a polyamorous relationship had actually been brought up by her. She hadn’t wanted Clint to go without anything. They were happy, more than happy, and she loved him more than a person possibly could. But she’d always had the thought in the back of her mind. And so they’d had a serious heart to heart about the possibility of bringing someone else into their relationship.

And then they’d had Cooper. Married. And now with two beautiful children, a wonderful home. They were happy. Laura sometimes couldn’t believe just how happy she was.

So it had never exactly come up.

And then Clint had started talking about Bucky. At first, the two men had had something in common that very few could probably understand. But they had more than that she realized now, possibly much more. And the way Clint obviously cared about him… Clint was doing is best to be the good friend but she wasn’t blind.

Laura had read Bucky’s file too. Clint had brought it home one evening and they’d gone over it together after the kids had been asleep. And they’d ended up staying up half the night reading it.

Even she couldn’t help but be a little enamored. An American soldier from the 1940s, a day an age that was maybe a lot over romanticized, there wasn’t much to discern from a cut and dry military profile. But a picture of him with a smile that could light up a sun, and even that little smirk in one of his service photos, Laura could tell he would have been a real lady killer. And it looked like he’d known it too.

And Laura wasn’t kidding herself. She knew that James Buchanan Barnes was probably long gone. His military and SHIELD file was nothing short of tragic. It was easy to fall in love with what he’d might have been, she was sure James Barnes had broken a lot of hearts in his day. But everything was different now. And everything was entirely off the table. What had been done to him… Laura couldn’t grasp the scale of it. Who could?

Maybe Clint.

Laura leaned up against the sink, letting out a slow, quiet breath. She sent Lila and Cooper into the other room with grilled cheese sandwiches. Cooper was a little old for coloring books but he’d amuse Lila. It gave Laura enough time to figure out what to feed Bucky… and to watch her husband take care of the man outside.

Guiltily she was a little distracted. They were two gorgeous men after all. And they were soaking wet and soap was involved. She was a little hard pressed to concentrate on whatever it was she was doing. So she focused instead on making sure her two children stayed well in the other room. Because while there wasn’t exactly nudity going on… okay she could call it nudity. There was a _lot_ of man out there on her concrete patio right now - even they were wearing pants.

“Laura?” Clint called suddenly. Towards the open window she was standing at she realized. And Laura couldn’t suppress the feeling like she’d somehow been caught and nearly blushed from her head to her toes. Her husband was a spy. She was sure he’d noticed. Maybe not the staring. But she had been staring.

Laura tucked her hair behind an ear, feeling foolishly like a teenager all over again, and almost laughed at herself as she immediately headed outside. “Yes?” she asked after sliding the porch door open.

“Could you uh-” Clint stopped abruptly as Bucky noticeably took a step behind him. His shoulder, Laura realized with an ache of sympathetic shock. He was hiding his metal arm and the scarring around his shoulder and chest from her. Bucky had put it directly behind Clint’s back to hide half of himself. And Clint had noticed too.

“Aw Bucky it’s okay.” Laura heard him murmur quietly. But Clint didn’t tell him to move.

Laura just found her kindest smile, but gave Clint a brief, surprised look. “Bucky?”

Clint nearly grinned. “Bucky.”

Laura stepped down the porch towards the two men. “It’s really nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Laura. I’m sure you’ve heard about me but-” she briefly glanced at Clint, who was looking at her with a smile that suggested he’d done something like fall in love with her all over again. And Laura smiled a bit more, settling her eyes on Bucky. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Ma’am.” Bucky said and Laura barely managed not to wince. He was barely looking at her, mostly through hooded, unsure eyes. Timidly, he’d pulled himself closer to Clint’s back, making himself look smaller. It was almost like he was scared of her. Or maybe… maybe he was scared of himself.

Clint looked like his heart had broken a little too and he winced, finding an encouraging smile for her. “Maybe a blanket. And a hairbrush? I uh… I’ve never dealt with this much hair before.”

Laura almost laughed, even if her expression was gently sympathetic. “Oh. Yeah. I can see that.” Bucky’s hair actually looked a little wild. “Maybe I can try? Would you let me?” she asked Bucky, pitching her voice a bit more soothingly. He was like a beautifully, wildly, broken thing. And she ached to soothe some of that fear in his eyes.

And they were in trouble. Probably not in a bad way. But she suddenly didn’t want Bucky anywhere else but with them.

Clint’s eyes widened for some reason, he opened his mouth to say something, and Laura half turned - but not in time to see her daughter come down the stairs. And Bucky looked like he wanted to run.

“Bucky.” Clint said calmly, mostly just for them to hear and not Lila. “ _Hold_.” he commanded soothingly, voice low and sure. “Stay. Stay for me. I’m right here. I won’t move.”

“Here.”

Lila was rounding Laura’s legs with a blanket in her arms, the military issue one from off the table that she’d had at the ready, and walking right up to her father. Bucky practically tried to make himself invisible. He was so startled that he practically didn’t move, pressing closer to Clint’s back and turning his face into his bare shoulder, scarcely breathing.

Laura’s eyes were wide but she was fighting not to laugh. What was stopping her was Bucky. It was killing her to see him so scared. Scared of himself while she wasn’t and apparently Clint wasn’t either. And to any outside observer they probably _should_ be. But everything she’d read about the Winter Soldier did not fit that of a random, psychotic killing machine. He’d been a killing machine sure, but at the hands of people who’d _made_ him that way. No one was going to trigger him here. No one was going to order him to do anything - least of all hurt somebody.

And judging by Bucky’s reaction that was the very last thing that he wanted.

“Thank you sweetheart.” Clint said, taking the blanket from Lila.

But she only had eyes for Bucky. And the look he was giving her over Clint’s shoulder was almost comical. But Lila just held out a hand right to him. “It’s okay. I understand being scared. Daddy told me that the only way to stop being scared is to face your fears. But we’re not scary. Come on.” she insisted. “Take my hand.”

Clint was holding his breath, keeping his promise not to move, but giving a look with raised eyebrows at Laura like. _Oh my god_. Laura could understand the feeling wholeheartedly. She had to cover her mouth to keep from crying and she wasn’t sure she was succeeding but she had to do it because she was a parent. Like being hurt and not crying in front of your children, she wasn’t going to put Lila on the spot.

“Come on.” Lila insisted again, patiently staring at Bucky like for all the world she wasn’t going to move until he took her hand. And Laura knew she wouldn’t.

Bucky’s bottom lip quivered but he hesitated… and then slowly reached out with his human hand from around Clint and took her hand.

Laura let out a shaky breath and dropped her hand from her mouth, giving Bucky the biggest smile that she could. Lila. Her little, amazing, angel.  
Clint looked just as overwhelmingly proud.

“See?” Lila said. “We’re not scary.”

Bucky took in a trembling breath, a tear slipping down a cheek. “But I am.”

Lila practically rolled her eyes at him. “No you’re not silly. You’re wet.”

And Clint laughed, looking at Laura like he was just as amazed by what happened as he was shocked. And Laura laughed too and she could relate but that laugh didn’t last long on either of their parts. The moment was far too choked with other emotions. Like downright wonder at their youngest child, more sympathy and love than she could handle for Bucky Barnes. Clint took the blanket it in his hands and wrapped it around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky immediately reached up with his metal hand, almost tentatively like he was trying to hide it from Lila, but at least he looked somewhat capable of leaving where he stood behind Clint now that most of his arm and the scarring around his shoulder was covered.

And Clint put a hand on the small of Bucky’s lower back as he let Lila lead him towards the house, Laura also reaching out to put a hand on Bucky’s arm. Cooper was waiting on the porch and Bucky gave him a tentative, unsure look. It was like he was constantly waiting to be judged. Or viewed as the monster he obviously saw himself as.

But that was the last thing on Cooper’s mind. “That _is_ a metal arm. So cool.”

Clint reached out and patted his son’s shoulder on the way past with a laugh that was nothing short of proud and loving.

“We have the best kids.” he said to Laura matter-of-factly.

“We do.” Laura agreed.

But inside the house, Clint nodded them towards the other room. “All right kids. Let’s give him a little space. Cooper take your sister upstairs.”

“Yeah I guess.” Cooper said, watching Bucky with no short order of quiet curiosity.

But Lila wasn’t interested. She sat up on a chair when Clint pulled out one for Bucky, across from the topless man, on one of her own. And Laura was about to tell her that it was time for her to go upstairs but she didn’t look about ready to let go of his hand - just as fascinated by him as Cooper. And she scooted closer too, until she was right on the edge of her chair, turning over Bucky’s hand in hers and almost curiously inspecting it. “What happened to your other arm?”

Bucky shot Clint an almost bewildered look.

“Well…” Clint tried. “Honey sometimes people get hurt and they can’t keep their arms or legs.”

Lila reached right up and touched Bucky’s metal hand. “But this one works just like your other one.”

Laura was about ready to throw in the towel but Clint just picked up Lila from under her arms and sat down in the chair she’d been in, setting her in his lap. “Yeah you see that’s the cool part.” and he reached out for Bucky’s metal hand, Laura reaching out to hold the blanket onto his broad shoulders so Bucky would actually let go of that blanket for Clint to bring it closer to Lila. “It does work just like his other one. And if you want to know how, you’ll have to ask Tony Stark but see…” Clint gave Bucky a solid look that spoke volumes as he gently turned both of his hands over, palm up - for Lila to see.

It said _trust me_ and _you’re all right_.

“Just like the other one.” Clint said.

“That is so cool.” Cooper said.

Lila reached out and put her much smaller hand in Bucky’s palm. “And you can feel that too?”

Bucky lightly cleared his throat, blinking, obviously struggling to find his voice. “Sort of.” he said quietly. “I… know your hand is there. But I can’t feel it.”

Lila laughed. “That’s because you can see it. Close your eyes.”

Bucky threw another helpless look at Clint, who just grinned over Lila’s shoulder. “Go on.”

Laura fought back a bigger smile of her own, gently soothing one of her thumbs over Bucky’s shoulder over the blanket Lila had given him - and Bucky closed his eyes.

Lila reached out for his wrist. “Can you feel that?”

Bucky opened one eye at her, squinting, the ghost of his smile on his lips. “Kinda giving it away by asking me aren’t you?”

Lila immediately clapped her other hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling with laughter, but her eyes were all for Bucky. And Bucky’s lips twitched in something that might have been laughter, but he closed his eyes again. And Lila touched Bucky’s inner forearm.

“Yep.”

Lila’s fingers touched Bucky’s. “Yeah.”

And Lila quickly reached out but Clint caught her hand. “Slowly honey.” he reminded her. “Easy.”

Lila, more slowly as her dad suggested, touched Bucky’s inner elbow.

“Yeah I can feel that too.”

Laura couldn’t see Bucky’s entire expression, just his lips and the line of his nose from where she was standing behind him. But it was the subtle struggle in that last sentence, the falter, that caught her attention. Clint’s expression, who was watching Bucky the entire time, caught what she hadn’t seen obviously. Because he looked a little concerned. “All right.” he said to Lila. “See?”

“You weren’t cheating.” Lila smiled.

A cry from upstairs from an unhappy baby, obviously not thrilled about waking up from his nap, brought Laura’s head up. And Clint was already setting Lila on her feet off the chair and onto the kitchen floor. “Okay kids.” he said. “Let’s give Bucky a break. Clean up your plates in the other room and it’s homework time.” And he met Laura’s eyes. “I got the baby. Maybe you can work out Bucky’s hair.”

Bucky had the blanket back so Laura eased back into his line of sight, eyeing his hair. “Shouldn’t be too hard.” she smiled at the man.

Clint reached out and put a hand gently on Bucky’s face, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Bucky managed a fairly uneasy nod and Laura helped them put the dishes in the sink, “Lila go get mommy’s brush from upstairs, okay?”

“Okay!” she agreed happily.

The look Bucky gave her was… well he looked a lot lost. Like he didn’t want to be any trouble definitely. But like his very presence probably was. And it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. So Laura sat down in the chair Clint had left. “They like you a lot you know.” she said, talking about Lila and Cooper.

Bucky smiled even if it turned into more of a wince, nodding and averting his eyes to the floor.

Laura reached out and gently put her hands on his knees and she learned a lot just then. The way he subtly shuddered, but not in a bad way, the quiet breath that was nearly silent - the way his slumped shoulders relaxed just a fraction. He very nearly seemed to lean into her touch and Laura got the distinct impression that he was a little touch starved. She could only imagine that Rogers was the only kind touch he’d experienced after a sea of abuse for decades. And her heart ached sympathetically.

Working out his hair almost was impossible. Laura tried to be gentle and Bucky was really good at taking apparently any amount of pain without so much as a flinch, but that was just it. Laura didn’t want to hurt him at all. She taken into account that Clint would also need conditioner instead of just shampoo but his hair had completely dried.

“Any luck?” Clint asked, coming back with Nathaniel perched on his hip.

“No.” Laura winced. “We’ll have to get his hair wet again. He has thicker hair than I do.”

Clint winced around a brief grin. “Okay let’s see what we can do. Here. Maybe the sink?”

“Sure.” Laura reached out for Nathan’s chubby little legs. “And we can put this grumpy little jelly bean in his playpen in the other room.”

“Actually.” Clint said. “He’s holding me hostage for peas and pears. And if we don’t give it to him, I’m not sure what he’ll do to me.”

Laura laughed and motioned for Clint to give her their son. “Right. He has impeccable timing.” Her eyes caught the clock as she set Nathaniel into his highchair and set him up with his peas and pears. Clint had already guided Bucky over to the sink and dragged a stool over that he could sit in, the tall vintage one that they mostly used for decoration but it was solid steel and could probably withstand Thor.

Laura ran some water, adjusting it to the right temperature. Clint was rhythmically squeezing Bucky’s right shoulder with a hand, demeanor calm and soothing, and Laura got a real good idea why the second they eased him back to tilt his head back over the sink. Bucky put a foot right down onto the floor and grabbed onto Clint. “I can’t-”

“Okay, okay-” Clint immediately said, grasping Bucky by the arm and helping him to sit up. “Yeah that was a bad idea. I’m sorry.” and he put a hand to the back of Bucky’s neck, leaning down to meet his eyes. “Just breathe. That was stupid of me-”

“No-” Bucky winced, trying to get his breath back, shaking his head. “No - I’m sorry.”

“All right. Let’s try the other way.” Clint said. “Okay?”

Bucky just managed a nod.

Laura watched Clint pull the stool away and Bucky turned around, standing to bend over the sink. But while they almost got his head under the water, he panicked again and quickly pulled away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” he kept saying.

“Shhh.” Laura soothed as her husband did his best to calm him down, quickly shutting off the water because Bucky was staring at it with wide, fearful eyes like… Laura wasn’t going to even think about why he looked so scared. “It’s okay. That’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

What they managed was to get Bucky into the small shower on the lower level of the house right next to the kitchen. Laura could still see Nathaniel but help Clint and together they managed to work out Bucky’s hair. With a towel over his lap, they had to get him wet all over again but at least they could work on his hair. And Laura managed it pretty easily.

And though Bucky trembled a little, he didn’t panic, and Clint kept both hands on him at all times despite getting wet again himself. He never left and Laura would admit, once Bucky calmed down - she took her time. He seemed to genuinely need the contact.

Clint put Bucky in one of his shirts and a new pair of tactical pants, giving him some socks too but by the time they got him settled, Laura could tell the man was getting overwhelmed. The kids, the baby, maybe even the house and the family atmosphere. Bucky’s trembling was starting to come back and he was starting look downright overwhelmed.

So Laura sent the kids upstairs with a movie and tried to appease Nathaniel with his playpen. And she was walking back into the living room when Bucky’s breath seemed to catch and he reached out for her husband. “Clint.” he said shakily. Laura wasn’t sure if Bucky was going to pass out or throw up. He looked a little of both and she recognized a panic attack when she saw one.

Clint immediately took Bucky into his arms, easing close, wrapping his arms around the man as he whispered soothing words into his ear - words that Laura couldn’t hear. And Laura knew what Bucky needed now was space and Clint so she gave them both distance. There was definitely no way that he could eat like this either so Laura picked up Nathaniel and decided to give them some space. And quiet.

 

Clint looked over at Laura from where he was rocking Bucky in his arms. He was exhausted, still felt like he’d been through literal hell and back, and his head was pounding but Bucky was first and foremost on his mind. The man couldn’t calm himself down from a panic attack. He was in unfamiliar surroundings. Hell he’d been through a lot. Clint wasn’t about the give up on him now. Rogers would be here soon and frankly Clint didn’t even care how badly he felt. He didn’t want Bucky to leave.

Laura pointed upstairs and Clint nodded ever so slightly, both to spare his head and to not alert Bucky. And then he reached up for Bucky’s hand, the other arm securely around Bucky’s shoulders. He lifted the man’s hand up to his chest and gave it a gentle squeeze, stroking his thumb over the back of it. Bucky was calming in his arms, he’d calmed down pretty easily actually.

And when Bucky seemed tired, Clint thought the couch sounded like a pretty decent idea. He was more than happy to lay down too with how he was feeling. So Clint settled them both on the couch. He laid on his back and urged Bucky to lay beside him. As narrow as the couch was, Bucky practically had to drape himself over Clint’s body just to manage it but the weight of the man felt good. And just getting Bucky to do this, to relax like this, in his house no less but his arms. Clint was a strong mix of amazed and grateful.

“You make it quiet.” Bucky murmured quietly against his chest. It sounded like he was half asleep.

“What do I make quiet?” Clint said, stroking Bucky’s hair back from his face.

“My head.” Bucky whispered.

Clint pressed a kiss into thick, soft strands so brown they were nearly black. And they felt just as good under his lips as they did under his fingers. But it was nothing compared to the blossoming of warmth and loving satisfaction he felt at Bucky’s words. “Good.” he whispered against Bucky’s head. “I hope I’ll always be able to make it quiet.”

He thought he felt Bucky swallow heavily and Clint let his hand rest at the back of his neck, eyes falling closed. His eyelids felt so heavy, his head was aching almost intolerably. The weight of Bucky and the metal arm around his stomach was soothing though. Grounding. Like nothing in the world could get to Clint here. Not to his family either. They were holding down each other. Veterans of a war that didn’t really stop and an understanding in that. They were both spies too. Although Bucky - it hadn’t been by choice. Not by a long shot. But there was an understand there too That no other Avenger but Natasha could possibly understand.

Clint just felt that soothing weight pulling him right down to sleep. He had a hold of Bucky, nice and secure, holding him down too. And somewhere, inside of him, knew that he had no intention of taking a nap. The kids were upstairs, Laura was with the baby, and he couldn’t sleep. But that was his last, fuzzy and uncaring thought before he gave in to the soothing weight of Bucky across his chest, against his hip, and over his legs.

But the shouting. The shouting was pretty rude. Couldn’t a guy get a little bit of sleep?

There was something wrong about that shouting.

_No one should be shouting._

Clint came awake like he was coming alive, pulling in air into his lungs like he hadn’t breathed in days. And it almost hurt. And hands were holding him down, Rogers with a knee on the couch against his hip, a hand on his chest. Thor with a hand at the base of his neck and on his chest. And they were calling to him loudly but for a second all Clint could feel was another place, a dark place, like it would take him and wouldn’t let him go-

“Clint! Clint stay with us. Eyes on us!” Captain America ordered.

“You need to _breathe_ and look at me-” Thor demanded, “Look at me!”

“He’s not-” Rogers abruptly stood. “Bucky do it.”

Thor moved and only a split second later, a bunch of ice water came crashing down on Clint like a wave of subzero, liquid ice - soaking him and the couch. But it helped. It pulled him abruptly to his senses, the world snapping back to sharp, startlingly clarity and Clint’s heart was racing as Rogers and Thor grabbed him and pulled him to a sitting position.

“Clint!” Rogers ordered.

And then Thor slapped him.

“Okay!” Clint shouted, “Okay! I’m all right! The _hell_ -! The hell just happened!”

“I believe you were possessed by a Rithori.” Thor said. “It happens rarely but you were pulled into the Rithori realm.”

“You weren’t breathing.” Bucky said, a stoic type of deadpan note to his voice that suggested Clint had scared the hell out of him

Steve glanced over at Bucky. “There’s a chance you’re still possessed-”

Clint gave Steve a startled look, his heart nearly thudding to a stop.

“Please tell me there’s a solution!” Clint demanded.

“Yes but it may be very painful.” Thor said.

“Whatever it takes.” Clint said, his voice sounding raggedly weary to even his ears, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “Where’s Laura? Where are the kids?”

“Upstairs with Natasha.” Steve said. “You can see them before we leave of course. Whatever you need.”

Clint’s heart skipped an unsteady beat and he looked to Thor. “Just how dangerous will this be?”

Strangely, there were some glances in Bucky’s direction. And Thor spoke up after a moment. “You yourself could not handle the strain of what we will do to remove the Rithori. But we will use the Soldier of Winter as a conductor of the cleansing.”

Clint’s eyes met Bucky’s but the man just held his gaze, without wavering. “What about him? What’s the risk to him.” he demanded.

“It will… be difficult.” Steve said. “From what Thor said… it’ll take a lot out of both of you. But it’ll be quick. We can do it fast. And there’s no other option.”

“Right.” Clint said. “I’ll get ready to go and we’ll - we’ll do this.”

Steve reached out and clapped a hand on his arm. And it made such an uncomfortable, wet slap that Clint couldn't help but give a low, weary laugh.

Thor held out a hand and arm to help him up and Clint gratefully took it, letting the Asgardian god pull him to his feet. Steve helped him from the other side but he shrugged them both off. “I’m not a danger to them am I?”

“No.” Thor said. “They want your soul and your life. You are not a danger to others until they take both.”

Clint suppressed a deep, convulsive shiver. And didn’t succeed. And he looked up, meeting Bucky’s eyes with his own. There was a solid, unwavering type of determination in those blue eyes. He was there for anything, down for whatever happened, and Clint knew it. And it meant more to him than he could possibly express. _He_ meant more to him than Clint could possibly express.

Clint changed in the bathroom downstairs, quickly toweling off, his first thought only getting to Laura. And Laura practically ran into his arms when he got upstairs, even if she did it as calmly as she could for the kids who were watching with wide, terrified eyes. Natasha kept them where they were with her hands on their shoulders. But even he heard her say something along the lines of ‘thank God’ out of her relief.

“Sort of.” Clint managed to quip wearily, but he was too busy holding onto Laura for whatever he could. “It’ll be okay.” he whispered to her. “I’ll be okay. I just have to…” Clint looked over at his worried, and scared children and decided he’d explain in a moment. Gently, giving Laura’s arms a squeeze, he withdrew and stepped away just enough to sit back on his heels. “Come here kids. Come here.”

Lila was actually crying as she and Cooper went right into his arms. They were on the gentle and cautious side regardless. They knew what it was like when he came back from a particularly brutal mission. Clint felt a lot similar to that right now. “He said he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And he kept his promise.”

Clint knew without a doubt that Lila meant Bucky. And his heart swelled with more love than he could fathom. For Bucky, for his family, for his wife, for his children. “You bet he did.” _Bucky_. Clint was rattled by everything but right now, by that man especially. Unlike in the other ways, it was in a good way.

Clint hugged both Lila and Cooper close, with everything he had, couldn’t stop touching them until he forced himself to stop - pulling away after kissing both of their heads. They still clung to his legs but he gently, very gently and affectionately shook them. “I have to take your mom and talk to the Avengers. Okay? You gotta stay up here for me. And I’m going to leave but-”

“No!” Lila cried.

“Dad-” Cooper started.

“I have to. I’m sick with something I have to get rid of but Thor is going to make me all better okay.”

“Lila?”

They looked up, hearing Bucky’s voice. Natasha had apparently seen him in the hallway and he was standing in the doorway to the playroom. And his voice wasn’t unsure or wary this time around. He was looking at Lila kindly too. And he held a hand out to her.

Sniffing, Lila trudged over to Bucky and Clint watched with amazement as Bucky picked her up into his arms. “I made a promise I’m going to keep.” And as she laid her head on his chest, seemingly reassured by his words even if she was still upset, Bucky looked to Cooper. “I need you to take care of your little, sister and your mother. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

Cooper gave a nod and Bucky gently rubbed his hand over Lila’s back, looking over at Laura to take her. And Laura did, her eyes welling up with tears as she gave Bucky a smile. And Clint was in the same damn boat. All he could do was stare at Bucky in some sort of baffled wonder. Clint could tell that hadn’t been easy. He knew how Bucky felt about himself. So to walk up here, to step over those fears about the Soldier… Clint was staggered beyond all reason.

And he was starting to realize that calling Bucky his ‘good friend’ over the past several months had been a good way to hide that he’d fallen head over heels for him a long damn time ago.

Natasha said good-bye to the kids, Laura took Nathaniel downstairs with her, and they all met downstairs. For that inevitable conversation. Clint felt a little numb and dumbfounded. Again something else was inhabiting his mind, his body, and deeper than either of those - without any of his say. And he’d be a threat. He’d be a threat to everyone all over again if whatever had him, really took him. He was angry and more upset than he could put words too. And stuffing that down to hide it all, Clint wasn’t sure he was succeeding.

“What about Bucky?” Clint asked Thor, “He went through the portal with me.”

Steve and Thor exchanged a glance. And then Rogers solemnly met Clint’s eyes. “He’s probably possessed by one of those things too but Thor doesn’t think so.”

Thor motioned to Bucky and his tone was a little careful when he replied. “The Soldier of Winter resides within him. The Rithori may have regarded Bucky as already possessed.”

Clint let out a slow breath at the thought and judging by Bucky’s expression, grave and quiet, it made sense to him too. “Okay... so what do we do about this?”

“I will take you to the Graves of Withering Winter.” Thor said. “There is a black pool that resides within it that isn’t created of water. When you and Bucky stand within that pool, I will use Mjolnir to call upon the lightening to cleanse you through Bucky. The pool will keep the both of you safe from the lightening. However the process will be… Strenuous.”

“All right. Let’s go. The sooner the better.” Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Thor nodded. “I agree. We should depart now.”

“Can we have a moment?” Laura surprised Clint by asking the Avengers gathered.

“Of course.” Rogers said understandingly and he and Thor exchanged a glance, moving to leave. But when Bucky started to leave with them, Laura reached out for the man. “You’re part of this family too.”

Everyone stopped for a moment, but no more than Bucky, whose eyes widened just a bit - fixing Laura with a surprised, heartbreaking type of shock. And Clint immediately reached for Bucky’s hand to take it. “Damn straight you are.” he agreed.

Steve relaxed with a smile, reaching over to give Bucky’s arm a pat. And then he left with Thor and Natasha, who also left with a smile on her face in their direction. Clint practically only had eyes for Bucky for the moment, pulling him closer. Bucky obliged, in an almost - near daze, but he hesitated around Nathaniel. Either way, Clint leaned in, grasping Bucky’s neck in a hand and pressing a grateful, loving kiss to the side of his face. “We’ll be fine. Let’s do this.”

Bucky nodded, wrapping an arm Clint’s back and stepping close, turning a look at Laura.

They stepped out onto the porch together but Laura called for Natasha, who was waiting on the porch still. Thor and Steve were nearer to the meadows and the fence, waiting, the Quinjet just beyond. She was obviously separate from the group. “I’m staying here.” she told Laura, smiling at the three. “Thor says the four of us will already be a crowd. Pretty much.”

Laura nodded, reaching up to put a hand on Nathaniel’s head where she rocked the baby on a hip. Clint leaned in and gave her a deep kiss, kissing Nathaniel before gathering Bucky up with a glance. But as they were leaving the porch and walked towards Thor and Steve, Laura called out for them to wait.

Both turned just as Laura passed Nathaniel into Natasha’s arms. And then she was taking the porch steps and walking quickly up to Bucky. She reached out a hand and he went to her, and Clint watched as Laura took Bucky’s face in her hands. “Take care of him. I want you both to come back to me. No heroic sacrifices. Just the both of you. Right back here. With us.”

Bucky let out a quiet breath, and pulled Laura into his arms.

Should it bother Clint seeing his wife in another man’s arms? According to most of the world? Probably. But it didn’t. Exactly the opposite, he felt something incredible happen. Clint felt his world shift into a brand new place. An incredible place he’d fight to come back to with everything he was. Because the love he had in his life, in this home, had just tripled. And there was no feeling in the world to explain just how good and right it all felt.

 

 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

**V**

The flight to wherever Thor was taking them - and it definitely wasn’t on a map - was a quiet one. Clint had a cold pit of anxiety churning in his stomach that he couldn’t get rid of and he hated the feeling. He hated the silence in the Quinjet too because it left him to drown in his own thoughts and anxiety. But he didn’t want to talk about it either. That was the last damn thing that Clint wanted to do right now.

And Bucky kept giving him these quiet, knowing little looks that was both making Clint feel worse and somehow better. It kept throwing him. The man had been through so much and here he was, looking at Clint like for all the world he just wanted to fix Clint’s problems.

“Clint?”

“Yeah.” Clint was saying automatically, almost leaping at the opportunity to get out of his own damn head and Captain America’s voice was also a welcome break in the silence.

“Can you take over here?” Rogers asked, indicating the flight controls.

Clint almost didn’t say anything, answering a heartbeat after something about Bucky caught his attention. The man looked… “Yeah I’ve got it.” Clint said, standing up, itching to just do something. Maybe Steve had noticed, maybe he was giving him a way out. If so - Clint was grateful. Either way, he wasn’t going to ask why right now.

Clint even took over all the manual controls, turning off anything he could just to give himself more work. And Clint thought he could hear some murmured conversation behind him but then Bucky and Steve’s boots could be heard on the metal floor walking deeper into the jet. And Clint was curious, Bucky had seemed subtly off. Something about the tense, tens _er_ line along his jaw. Maybe it had been the lighting in the jet but he’d seemed a little more pale than usual too.

The darkening clouds distracted Clint, his eyes catching on a glint of lightening. The storm was off in the distance and it wouldn’t affect them on their current heading. But the darkness was a little off putting. Even Clint’s keener than normal average vision wasn’t picking up much in the black, almost foggy altitude they were sitting in. And suddenly he pulled in a breath, out of nowhere, feeling a familiar and very old panic tighten his throat and chest.

There was something inside of him, something that Bucky was going to risk his life to purge. Something that could turn him against his friends - again. Could make him turn against and hurt everything that he cared about and his family -

“Hey.” Steve. And he sounded pretty concerned. And Clint almost gave him a sharp glance.

“What?” And Clint winced at his tone, terse. Almost cutting.

Steve didn’t even blink, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. “Easy. You all right?”

Clint immediately forced himself to nod, telling himself to firmly get a grip on himself. It helped that Captain America was asking. “Yeah. Yeah I’m all right.”

“You’re sure?” Steve said.

“Yeah. Yes.” Clint really didn’t like to talk about… ‘after’ New York or the Chitauri invasion. Only Laura knew about the panic attacks and Clint hated, hated those old feelings flaring back to life and reminding him that he’d had no control over them then and if one hit now - he could damn well make a complete fool out of himself and fall apart around a few people he cared quite a bit about. One person that he was sure he was falling in love with. And that’s not the Clint Barton he wanted them to see.

“Okay.” Steve said and even if he didn’t seem to understand completely, he was a soldier. He understood something and it was enough. But now he was hesitating. And Clint didn’t like that either.

So Clint glanced purposely back for Bucky. “Everything all right?”

Steve hesitated again, hand still resting on his arm. Clint wasn’t going to tell him to take it away if he was willing to leave it. But he didn’t like that hesitation either.

“I’m fine.” Clint reiterated a little tersely. “It’s easier if I don’t think right now so if you have something to say.” Clint cursed quietly. “Dammit I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Steve said firmly.

“Listen if you have something to say-” Clint managed a laugh he didn’t quite feel but he was hoping it would be enough to momentarily dissuade Rogers.

“Bucky needs an NG tube.” Steve finally said outright and the statement almost hit Clint solidly in the stomach. “He doesn’t think he can hold down any rations right now. I was told that in a pinch, you can do one.”

Clint nodded and just like that, he pretty much forgot what was threatening to pull him down into a black spiraling pit of anxiety. “Yeah that’s no problem.” He just wished the distraction hadn’t come at Bucky’s expense but that was nothing Bucky could control either. And Clint was just happy, and more than willing, to help. That he _could_ help.

“Good. And thanks.”

But when they stood and turned to the back of the Quinjet Bucky was already standing and waiting for them. And he looked… he looked really hesitant about something. And then his eyes fell on Steve. And the two had more history than Clint could even account for. They seemed to exchange a statement without words, just with glances, and Steve’s jaw briefly tensed. And he didn’t look too happy. “Bucky…”

Bucky’s eyes guiltily fell to the floor. “I can’t.”

Steve let out a slow, quiet breath and directed his voice to Clint. “Someone will have to hold him while you… he doesn’t take to a chair very well.”

And he wouldn’t let Steve be involved? Clint was going to stay out of that one. As much as he’d like to argue against Bucky… for some strange reason he could grasp it, he could understand. It sounded like a major case of role reversal when they’d known each other last. All those decades ago... Bucky seemed to take mostly everything with fifty shades of guilt but he was often even more hesitant to let Steve take care of him in some instances.

Steve looked suddenly a little weary and turned back to the pilot seat of the Quinjet. “I’ll raise Thor. He should be nearby.” And he hesitated. “Would that be all right Buck?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said quietly. “That’s fine.”

Clint tried to find a smile for Bucky as he stepped closer to him, within arms reach, but not entirely sure if he’d tolerate touch right now. He just wanted the man to know that it was fine. Whatever he needed - it was fine. “You and Steve burn through an inhuman amount of calories.” he chuckled quietly. But he sobered a bit. “So I knew something was off about you. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, gentling his tone.

“I can’t remember.” Bucky actually surprised him by answering quietly but he sounded distracted.

“This morning.” Steve immediately replied. “Too long ago Buck. Especially after that fight.”

“Yeah we were going to find something for him to eat but…” Clint found another smile for Bucky. “Something came up.”

Bucky gave him a look like ‘don’t you dare try and play this off like it’s nothing’ and Clint’s smile faltered and he swallowed heavily. Way to cut to the heart of things. But he knew it wasn’t in a bad way and Bucky hadn’t done it to hurt him. He just didn’t want Clint be flippant about himself or his feelings and that meant a lot to Clint. It did.

Thor dropped down from a hatch in the roof that he’d opened, the wind from the outside briefly whipping through the Quinjet but it it wasn’t anything to write home about and the wind died and cut out as soon as the hatch was shut. Thor just pushed his hair back, running his fingers through his hair, and gave them all a brief smile. “You required my assistance?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded and briefly motioned to Bucky, who was shifting a wary look at Thor. Obviously unclear how Thor was going to receive all this but Clint wasn’t actually worried at all. Thor was a pretty laid back guy about damn near anything, certainly more than most human beings Clint knew.

And sure enough, as Steve explained, Thor just listened seriously. And agreed without hesitation. As if, like Clint suspected, it was serious but not anything that would make him nervous or embarrassed. Clint was wondering what the hell could do either of that at this rate. And even though Bucky was looking a little fidgety, Thor’s placid demeanor was sure as hell doing a lot to put him at ease. Clint too, if he’d admit it. Although what Bucky needed was putting him more at ease than anything.

It was something he could do. And that made him feel a lot more stable and centered.

With one hand - Thor could effortlessly support Bucky in a somewhat reclined position. But he went one step farther, embracing Bucky like a comrade, without any indication of awkwardness. Thor wrapped an arm securely around Bucky’s shoulders and reached around with the other hand to support his neck, murmuring a quiet word when Bucky’s metal hand briefly closed and tightened on his wrist.

“You all right?” Clint asked Bucky carefully.

But Bucky’s eyes weren’t on him, the former assassin nodding stiffly, keeping his eyes mostly on the ceiling or near to it. He couldn’t lean back far, Clint knew that. Not even a kitchen sink like the one Laura and Clint had tried to wash his hair in.

Clint pulled on gloves because it was sensible but he wouldn’t have otherwise - not wanting unnecessary trigger Bucky. The tubes were already cut and measured out so he didn’t even have to do that much. But he did gently grip Bucky’s neck in a hand, just at the base of his skull, while he put the tube in. And it was insane how Bucky didn’t even blink. Clint was watching him close, talking to him - murmuring quiet words and telling him how good he was doing - but Bucky was taking this without a single flinch. So at some point - Clint just stopped talking. Once the tube was in though and secured, he warmly squeezed Bucky’s leg just above the knee.

Clint connected the large syringe full of liquid meal replacement - fit for a man with a ‘super soldier’ metabolism - to the tube, twisting it to lock it into place. Thor had adjusted his hands, a large hand on Bucky’s neck and the other resting on his chest. And Bucky gave Clint a somewhat hesitant look, but his question was a little bit challenging. “Am I scaring you off yet?”

Clint just gave him a wry grin. “Not even close.”

After making sure Bucky was ready, Clint pushed it slow. He took it easy. There was a lot in the large syringe firstly. There was a second on a tray in his lap and Steve said on a good day he could get through them both and Clint was guessing this was going to be one of those days. He also took breaks, letting Bucky’s stomach settle, checking to make sure it was going down all right - if Bucky felt all right.

Luckily he did and Clint took a few moments occasionally to rub circles against his stomach anyway, easy strokes of a gloved hand. Both his hands were still gloved, Clint supposed he could take them off but he did have his hands full and Bucky seemed to be okay.

“You all right for another?” Clint asked him as he uncapped the empty syringe with a twist.

Bucky nodded and actually seemed a little eager for it. “Yeah.”

Clint wondered if they’d need a third round.

 

The sky was black. At least - it was to Clint. He wasn’t sure if his perspective was entirely reliable considering what he’d just experienced. Wading into the black pool with Bucky at a far corner of the globe not even on a map, the former assassin hadn’t shown an ounce of fear, hadn’t shied. He hadn’t hesitated once. Which to Clint… he knew that he had friends. The Avengers felt like his family. But old guilt didn’t exactly die. And to have someone standing right in front of him, unmovable, willing to endure hell for him…

Maybe what Clint coughed out after nearly being electrocuted in a tide of black, ink like ‘water’ didn’t exactly express his gratitude enough. Flippancy. It was an issue, avoiding his own problems. But sometimes he had a mouth that didn’t know when to keep quiet. “Yeah. Yeah I think we should do that again.”

At first, Clint thought Bucky was going to hit him. But then, he leaned down and kissed him.

Clint laughed a brief second into the kiss, reaching up to loop an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. But then the emotions of what had just happened and was happening hit him and he felt his throat tighten and something suspiciously like tears form behind his closed eyelids. He kissed Bucky back for all it was worth - which was everything - and Bucky’s lips, that kiss, the taste of him even if they tasted like pretty much nothing as soaking wet as they were. Clint could have willingly drowned in that. Bucky’s supple lips against his own, claiming his mouth like he’d rather shut Clint up, take any arguments before he could think of them, and as if he could communicate through that kiss alone all that he felt.

And Clint was definitely reading him loud and clear. It was mostly what had choked him up so badly in the first place.

As Bucky pulled away, Clint reached up with arms that felt a lot like useless, limp noodles and put his hands on Bucky’s face, stroking the hair back from his eyes. It was a futile gesture but it wasn’t lost on Bucky, who actually smiled back. But Clint suddenly lost own his smile, remembering all that they’d just endured, been through. And he quickly reached out for whatever he could reach of Bucky - to check him for injuries. “You all right?” Bucky didn’t appear hurt, so Clint put his hands back on his face, thumb brushing over a well defined cheekbone. “You good?”

Bucky nodded, looking a little flustered by his concern. “Yeah.”

“All right.” Clint let his hands drop, letting out a breath of relief. And then he realized they really weren’t alone, or rather remembered. But Steve lightly cleared his throat around the same time Clint figured it out. Clint turned a grin up at Thor instead. “Please tell me that worked before I don’t know if I want to do that twice.”

“It did.” Thor smiled. “You did well, friend Clint.”

Bucky stood up over Clint’s prone form, reaching out a hand. “Even if I did all the work.” And his teasing smirk was almost, almost obscured by his hair. Almost.

Clint was shocked, but amazed, by the quip - accepting Bucky’s hand and raising an eyebrow at the former assassin as he was pulled to his feet. “Oh ho. Look who has their sense of humor back for the moment!” he laughed.

“Yeah he always was a smart ass.” Steve smiled at Bucky but, even though he was hiding it, he looked a little awed too. And a little like Bucky had suddenly pulled him back into the 1930s. It threw Clint sometimes, it really did. How they could have that much history and not… not ‘other’ history of a different type. That bond of theirs, the way Steve seemed to get displaced into a different body and a different era… the hell they could inflict on each other seemed like it came from a deeper place than just friendship.

Bucky lost whatever he’d found but he didn’t seem too displaced, too adrift, eyes taking in all of Clint in a glance, assessing his condition. And it wasn’t all that cold when he did it. At all. “I’m all right.” Clint assured him. But he looked back to Thor, maybe just to double check. “Right? You said it, I’m fine.”

“You are. The Rithori has been purged.” Thor briefly glanced at Bucky before his eyes settled back on Clint, smiling. “And you survived what most mortals wouldn’t have. I would be proud.”

“Sure.” Clint agreed, eyes falling back on Bucky. And suddenly he just felt really exhausted. Bucky looked just as tired but damn, did he look beautiful. Long hair still damp but drying, a little untamed, looking at Clint with an unwavering but placid type of gaze. It said ‘I’m not going anywhere without you’ and Clint swallowed heavily, reaching out for Bucky’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The jet ride back was a quiet one. Bucky sat beside Clint the entire ride back to the Homestead and though they didn’t touch more than their knees comfortably and warmly resting against each other - it was more than enough. Clint was just relieved that it was all over. He was a bone deep type of exhausted and he could tell Bucky was too. Well - probably not as tired as Clint. Being some sort of super soldier that he was. His file was sketchy on that and Bucky wasn’t up for serious, medical analysis by SHIELD or anyone else for that matter. And with SHIELD mostly scattered to the wind, there was no one around to push it.

Laura threw herself into Clint’s arms first. All right, Clint would admit she was a bit more gentle about it. Obviously his own weariness showed. But it warmed him up from the inside out seeing her embrace Bucky nearly the same way. But maybe with a bit of a tighter squeeze, and a more considerate, cautious approach. They were already getting used to telegraphing their movements around the guy. And Bucky was already coming around to them steadily, their touch. It was like he was looking for it now, as much as he was cautiously, warily avoiding it. Like for some reason, because of his past and because of everything he’d been made into, he didn’t deserve it. He was ‘broken goods’. Dangerous to everyone and wholly undeserving of anything that wasn’t abuse. It hurt Clint. But it didn’t hurt him personally. That’s not how loving someone with that much hell behind them worked.

And Clint and Laura both headed for the house like they just expected Bucky to come with. Clint honestly couldn’t imagine Bucky anywhere else, even though he knew being together - whether it was just him and Bucky or the three of them - it was going to take a lot of time. But he already fit, felt like he belonged, more than either of them could probably work out. But Bucky’s hesitation was immediately felt.

And Clint’s heart briefly ached, reaching down to take Bucky’s hand in his, the other warmly in Laura’s. “Stay.” he said quietly.

The sadness in Bucky’s eyes was a little too much to handle. And the smile he tried to give them wasn’t much of a success. “I can’t.” he said, pulling his hand from Clint’s - the metal one, Clint only realized then. And Bucky looked to them and then past them, to the porch where the kids were waiting, to the Homestead. And Clint just wanted to tell him that _you could have that. You could have all of that._ But Bucky was already backing away, back towards the fence that skirted around the Homestead, the grassy green hills damp from a morning rain. And to Steve. Who was waiting at the top of that hill, watching with troubled blue eyes.

Bucky turned away and didn’t look back. But Clint didn’t feel like they’d lost him either.

 

Bucky woke up to morning sunlight filtered through gray clouds and an overcast sky. Someone had pulled back the curtains and for a moment, just for a moment, it was 1932. The drip of the water in the sink, the old pipes settling after a particularly cold night - thawing out, much like the wood floor would probably feel under his bare feet. Bucky’s first breath, his first thought was to Stevie. They’d have to throw more blankets over the mattresses, burn more newspapers to keep out the chill, Bucky would have to hold him like for all the world he could keep the chill out of his bones himself -

But that was 1932. And today, wasn’t. And Steve didn’t need all that effort to stay warm anymore. He didn’t exactly need him anymore.

“Mornin’ Buck.”

Firmly in the present, like everything had been pulled sharply into focus, Bucky turned his head towards those kind, warm words. And to a face that had never really changed, the same - kind and determined blue eyes. And yet - so much had changed, everything had changed. But it was one of those days were Bucky couldn’t exactly feel enough to care.

He cared but… it was going to be one of those days.

And Bucky felt a flicker of anxiety at the thought. He didn’t want to be coldly apathetic. He wasn’t in the hands of his captors anymore. He didn’t have to shut himself off to handle the violations, the manipulation, the abuse. But sometimes, some days, that apathy crept in. Leaving him with an eerie calm reminiscent to the days of Hydra. Back when they could strip him naked, handle him like nothing more than a weapon, their asset - a tool to be used like the person inside didn’t exist. Only the Winter Soldier did.

Instead, Bucky met Steve’s eyes and said. “Mornin’.”

Steve seemed to know, of course he did, but didn’t say anything. “You hungry, Buck? Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Yeah actually.” Bucky said and he was. And he felt like he could actually eat food. Today should be a good morning. But Bucky felt so… switched off. He’d been told it was also a symptom of depression, which he should rightly have. But Bucky didn’t think so.

“Good.” Steve reached out for the restrains. “After yesterday, you should be.”

Sam was over for breakfast and surprisingly, so was Stark. Bucky was almost glad for it. It was easier to escape conversation or scrutiny when there were more than a few people in the room, especially if it was just him and Steve. This was probably the only instance where Bucky was glad for Tony being around. He knew Steve and Tony had had a… ‘thing’ before Bucky had come around. After Steve had been thawed out, sometime during the first formation of the Avengers and after the Chitauri invasion of New York. According to Steve it was over. They were amicable. Steve could be awkward about it sometimes when Tony was in the same room. Bucky tried not to act like the dickish, overly protective big brother.

It wasn’t that Bucky disliked Tony. Tony had a rare tendency to be kind and understanding towards Bucky when he otherwise, probably shouldn’t. He wasn’t mean about anything in particular and he knew when to hold his tongue with the jokes. Some of them Bucky could tolerate. But Steve had firmly shut the door on any others. Or any more for that matter. But Tony had surprisingly helped him out a great deal in the past. When his rehabilitation in the beginning had been… rough.

He’d fought with Steve once. And Bucky had never told Steve that he’d overheard the argument but it was an unspoken acknowledgment. Stark had forced Steve into believing that there was more than just Bucky, that he had to think of himself too, and by shutting everyone else out and taking Bucky’s rehabilitation squarely on his own shoulders - he was being stupid. Bucky had agreed.

After breakfast, Bucky found a spot near a window overlooking the city of Brooklyn. It was still overcast, Bucky still felt bizarrely shut off, and the only thing he did feel was anxiety over feeling so shut down. Like he wanted to grasp desperately at anything that was human to feel human himself. To not feel like he was losing it, losing himself. Apathy was too many steps too close to the Winter Soldier.

“One of those days, huh?” Stark asked.

His voice was quiet. Same was watching them closely, like Stark needed supervision. Which wasn’t exactly inaccurate. Steve was washing dishes but if he thought the way he was eyeing them in the reflection of a cooking pan wasn’t obvious… well there was only one person in the room trained to be an assassin and a spy. And that was Bucky.

Bucky just nodded.

Tony took a cell phone out of his suit pocket and held it out. “Here. Try not to make this one disappear, okay?”

Bucky hesitantly reached out to take it. The other he’d ditched out of reflex. Hadn’t exactly gone rouge after a mission but the Soldier hadn’t been too keen on being traced. Had found the phone a strange annoyance, killed the implanted tracker too. But Bucky managed a nod and took the phone anyway. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Oh-” Tony turned around and reached out, unlocking the screen. “Friday added any numbers she thought would be important. But feel free to add any more that you can think of.”

And Bucky looked down at the screen and… Clint. Clint’s number was already pulled up - ready to be dialed. Tony had obviously left it up on the screen after he’d locked it. And that was no coincidence. And Bucky’s apathy didn’t thaw but something, something underneath of it twinged in a way that would have been gratitude. “Thank you.” he said again and Tony just smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

Bucky got up to make the call before he lost his nerve.

Clint answered on the second ring. Bucky was half worried about it being traced, the call monitored and maybe it would be - maybe it wouldn’t. The Avengers had shown him a hell of a lot more trust than Bucky thought he deserved. But hearing Clint’s voice… it eased the chill in the air somehow. Even as Bucky shouldered further into his jacket. “Clint.”

 _“Bucky.”_ Clint said, and he sounded surprised.

It made Bucky smile. “Yeah I bet you weren’t expecting this.”

 _“No.”_ he heard Clint smile back _“But it’s good to know you can call.”_

Bucky’s anxiety worsened for a moment, sometimes it did that. Came and went, often unpredictably. He could swallow it all down, fight it back and forget about it, but it would either creep up, edge in quietly, or slam down on him all at once. Luckily it had only done the latter months ago. Now he could at least feel it coming. “Are you doing anything today?”

Bucky quietly cursed himself. “Of course you are. You have the kids-” A life that I shouldn’t be interrupting.

 _“They’re at school.”_ Clint responded easily. _“-and the only thing I’m doing is sitting here with Laura - thinking about you.”_

Something inside of Bucky just caved. “It’s not a good day. I could… if you would-”

_“Give me your coordinates.”_

Bucky internally relaxed, relieved and gave them to Clint. Again - before he decided not to. Hanging up the phone wasn’t easy either but Bucky found a place on the roof that felt comfortable and sat down, and waited. That was the easy part. Give the coordinates and wait. It felt like help was on the way. It was easier than sitting around feeling so shut down, the apathy eating him alive like there was nothing else but the nothing. The forced calm he felt now actually felt not so forced. Appropriate.

Clint was coming. And Bucky wasn’t holding him to anything, he certainly didn’t expect Clint to fix the mess that he was. But the man had a tendency to just make things better without even trying. By just being _him_. And it was more than that. Clint had been a spy himself, covert operations, even tactical hits. He knew the dark corners of the world, a lot like Natasha did. And there was a solace in that. Steve and Sam, they’d seen the darker or darkest sides of war itself. But Clint and Natasha… Bucky had a silent understanding with them that felt easy. Like they already knew what he was. Because a piece or a lot of them - were what he was too.

An hour passed before Bucky realized that he probably should have picked a better place to meet than the roof. But there were no people here, no crowds of innocent civilians and soft targets. It was relatively quiet and tactically sound. And the sound of footsteps on the fire escape were easy to pick up. Bucky turned towards them, dismissing them outright as Hydra or SHIELD or even Natasha. It was just one person. They wanted to be heard. And they were trained not to be, if so willing.

Clint.

There was no sign he was a married man here. Clint always gave the impression that he was exactly the opposite of a person settled down to a quiet life. No ties, expertly trained, better suited to a crisis than most people. But human. And that was exactly what Bucky needed at the moment. Something human. And someone that knew him without knowing James Buchanan Barnes.

Clint’s look was assessing… but knowing. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Bucky didn’t really want to talk about it but he owed to Clint to at least try to explain. “You know what they tell you… when you’re trained. Whoever you’re trained by… they tell you to disconnect yourself from the situation. And yourself.”

Hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, Clint nodded. “Yeah.” he said, breath visible in the cold Brooklyn air.

“I had to do that… for decades. What they did to me…” Bucky forced his own hands into the pocket of his jacket, swallowing heavily and averting his eyes away from Clint’s. “Sometimes I wake up and I feel it… the apathy. The disconnect.” Bucky tore his eyes away from the roof at their feet, the concrete, back to Clint’s vividly blue and understanding eyes. “It scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

Clint took his hands out of his jacket and stepped forward, towards Bucky, with determined steps that didn’t feel threatening. Overwhelming maybe. But in all the right ways. Especially when Bucky was taken into into strong arms. Warm, human arms that he could break. A human that Bucky, the Winter Soldier, could destroy. But Clint didn’t waver, never showed an ounce of fear. He kept him, as insane as it was, safe. Human. Grounded.

Bucky held onto the man’s jacket, letting out a rough breath, and suddenly fiercely protective. He’d do anything to keep _this_ safe. This man, this incredible person, who loved all his broken and shattered pieces despite how ugly they could be. Bucky was too scared to call it love but he was also too smart to see just how far he’d already fallen for Clint. It was all right not to think about it. The hug wasn’t asking for anything more. Clint was expecting him to be anything but what he was.

Clint pulled back just enough to put a hand on Bucky’s face, reaching underneath his already shoulder length hair. And they were close. They were so close already and technically they’d already kissed less than twenty four hours ago. So why did this suddenly feel like the first time?

And under Clint’s gentle urging, Bucky leaned down to meet him for a kiss that did feel like the first time. Bucky hadn’t forgotten the way Clint’s lips felt under his. He hadn’t forgotten what he tasted like. But Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever get over either of those things. He wasn’t sure when it would ever feel like enough either. And somehow, it was impossibly more than he could ever handle.

And there was one thing the kiss did. It made him feel. It made him feel a whole damn lot. Even though that apathy was still there, muting and dulling it all, it didn’t rob Bucky of what was happening underneath. It made him feel human again.

When the kiss eased to a halt, Clint pressed a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. And Bucky leaned forward and rested his head on Clint’s. And he couldn’t express at all just how much that kiss had meant. Or how much he’d needed it. But Clint seemed to know. And Bucky relaxed that much further in his arms, ignoring the way he had a solid grip on the leather jacket Clint was wearing and the man himself. Because he wasn’t going to fall apart. He wasn’t going to shake into pieces. He wasn’t going to disappear either.

Not here, not today.

“You know we have to stop meeting on rooftops.”

Bucky breathed a laugh and shoved Clint back a step. But not in anyway out of his arms.

Clint shared the laugh but reached down for his hand instead, nodding towards the fire escape, his expression a serious one again. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

Bucky hesitated and his immediate thought was _yeah but I don’t trust me_. Clint seemed to read the thought pretty clearly though. “Hey you know what I’ve said before. Whatever happens, we can do our best to keep it from happening but it might happen anyway. That’s not the point. It’s how we handle it.”

Bucky was already nodding a yes. “What’s the idea?”

Clint smiled, “Disappear with me today. Together. Just the two of us.”

The word ‘disappear’ initially made Bucky feel a little bit of panic. But… somehow, just getting away with Clint even if for only a day, felt like the best idea. To get away from everything without actually losing himself. Because Clint would be there. He could disappear with supervision. With someone else that was trained, in different ways, to do the same. With someone that actually knew how.

Bucky was already taking his cell phone out of his pocket for Steve to find. He didn’t want him to actually think he’d disappeared. And he left Clint’s number up too. So at least he’d know who he was with. Bucky left the cell phone in some abandoned pigeon coops, in relatively plain sight, in a direct line to the only door onto the roof. And Clint surprised Bucky by doing the same, placing his phone beside Bucky’s.

“Come on.” Clint said, a smile in his eyes, reaching out for Bucky’s hand.

Bucky took his hand and together, they headed for the fire escape. And Brooklyn. And then? Bucky didn’t think either of them really knew. And there was a false sense of security in it too.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you haven't guessed it, the next chapter is going to be a little bit of a tribute to 'I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me.' by the incredible sara_holmes. And if you haven't read it (which was longer than a Harry Potter Novel - no joke) read it! It's probably the best work of fiction I've ever read, novel or otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

**VI**

Moving quickly, like an efficiently trained spy and a physically enhanced assassin, Clint and Bucky dropped off the fire escape from the three or four feet gap between the old metal stairway and the dirty, concrete alleyway. Clint felt Bucky’s hand at his back, they’d jumped down practically on top of each other, with an ease that couldn’t come from anything but ‘tactical chemistry’. At least, that’s what Clint liked to call it. Their training, their mentalities on the ‘job’ meshed well together and it was the same with Natasha.

“I need you to do something for me.” Clint said to Bucky. “I’m going to take the lead but I want little signs to know you’re still with me.” And Bucky’s eyes were attentive, quiet, open. Trusting. “Okay? Touch my jacket. Touch my fingers. Give me little cues.” Clint softened his voice, gentled his tone. “Because I know you can disappear and I don’t want you to. Not without me. If you feel yourself slipping? Grab me. And hold on.”

Bucky nodded. “You got it.”

“Good.” Clint’s mouth quirked up in a brief smile. “Let’s get a move on then.”

They moved quickly, avoiding crowds, staying out of sight. Bucky’s anxiety in large crowds of people seemed numbed when he had a mission on the brain, a task. But Clint didn’t push him regardless. The most they ever did as take a taxi and Clint paid in cash. And he looked over at Bucky, sitting beside him, noting that the man looked intent, serious. But he didn’t look upset. He wasn’t anxious, just incredibly focused.

And he’d done as Clint asked. And continued to do so. As they traversed Brooklyn, Clint felt little touches here and there. Just a ghost of a touch on his fingers when Bucky would brush their hands together, sometimes metal fingers and sometimes human. He’d feel that same touch on his sleeve or arm occasionally too and fortunately, no grabbing happened, Bucky didn’t slip. And Clint didn’t lose him. Mentally, because physically and _actually_ losing the Winter Soldier would be completely impossible.

And it was an altogether different experience getting ‘lost’ with Bucky. They weren’t actually evading authorities, a government, or anyone for that matter. But fading into a city and getting lost was a whole different experience with Bucky. If it weren’t for those touches, a glimpse of him at the corner of his vision, Clint wouldn’t even know he was there. He’d suspected, it was why he’d told Bucky to remind him with the little touches. But to experience it first hand… Bucky was on a whole other level. Even Natasha _felt_ like she was there with him. Bucky, even standing an inch apart, if Clint couldn’t see him - it was like he didn’t exist.

The taxi took them to Greenwood Park near Sunset and they traversed on foot to a group of warehouses that were mostly abandoned near the waterfront. Clint had a car stashed there and it wouldn’t definitely save on taxis and time. It was a favorite, not exactly feasible for an actual ‘dash and ditch’ scenario, but perfect for today. Clint had stolen the thing on a SHIELD designated operation that had gone a little bad. When it had served it’s purpose, and it’s owner had been killed, Clint hadn’t been able to part with it. So it was here it had sat, for years, in a Brooklyn warehouse.

Clint couldn’t think of a better day at all to see if it still worked. And running with Bucky seemed to have given the man a purpose, a function. A mission. And that was doing well to ground him, circumnavigate his anxiety and forget that god awful apathy Clint knew all too well what he was talking about. Bucky looked focused and calm and Clint was there, keeping him from actually disappearing.

The area along Bay Ridge wasn’t exactly deserted. There was some stores here and there and the area wasn’t exactly the roughest, but it wasn’t exactly the safest either so he tread more cautiously - not like they had anything to worry about, but grabbing attention was exactly what they didn’t want to do either. Clint walked with Bucky down 53rd which was barely a street. There were some cars parked in front of buildings that definitely looked questionable but there wasn’t a lot of traffic. Not exactly any people either.

Clint nodded at Bucky to keep watch while he picked the lock to the warehouse. And Bucky immediately complied, but not without lifting an eyebrow at him in curiosity. “Hey nothing illegal going on here.” Clint said. “Nothing _too_ illegal. Certainly nothing that’s hurting anybody else.”

The lock came free and Clint dropped it to the ground quietly, chain and padlock and all, and opened up the rusting steel door. Bucky followed him and Clint shut the door quietly. And it looked like the car was still there too, covered up by canvas, sitting near the middle of the warehouse - just where he’d left it.

And he definitely got another look from Bucky as he pulled the canvas free.

Clint just laughed as he eyed the black, sleek sports car he’d revealed. “Yeah. Something else, isn’t she?”

“Wouldn’t have pegged her as your type.” Bucky returned with a little bit of a smile.

“Yeah well. I have a soft spot for this one.” Clint ran his hands behind a tire, finding the keys still securely taped to the inner wheel well. The De Tomaso was black and only a little faded. More an attribute to the era and not to the wear of the vehicle itself. Modern paint and modern cars were colored a lot differently in comparison. And while this one was no Pantera, that was almost better considering they were trying to disappear.

Bucky wasn’t obviously running with his logic, watching as Clint tried to start the car up. “Isn’t this the opposite of what we’re trying to accomplish?”

“Come on.” Clint said, turning the key back after the car failed to start, giving Bucky a look out the window. “Who would think of either one of us driving this type of car?”

“Got a point.” Bucky conceded.

Clint tried again but the car wouldn’t start and Clint blew out a low breath, and reached out for the door to pull himself out of the car. “Right.”

Bucky’s lips twitched up in a smile that threatened to be teasing. “Looks like we might end up with something more low profile after all.”

“Not so fast.” Clint popped the hood, lifting it up and then divesting himself of his leather jacket, draping it over the driver’s side door. “She’s been sitting here for about eight years. Give me a second.”

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” Bucky asked after a pause, hands in his pockets, idly surveying their surroundings - the windows. It was a sunny day. Cold. But the clouds had lifted at least. Perfect for what Clint had in mind. Any other time of the year, heck - two weeks to this day and Clint wouldn’t have been able to do what he had planned.

Clint lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “A mission that went south. SHIELD sent me in to recover something they’d ‘misplaced’. I had to get in with this guy and his outfit. Actually ended up liking the little bastard. Long story short, this car was forgotten in the aftermath. I could have ditched it but…” Clint shifted a look at Bucky, noting that he wasn’t as relaxed as before. He was starting to get anxious. “-call me sentimental I guess.”

Clint paused from where he was working on the car, busying himself with making sure everything was still attached. Or missing. Bucky wasn’t facing him, his back to Clint, and the tense line of his shoulders was telling. He wasn’t moving anymore, he wasn’t on task. And Clint was just about to distract him with more conversation but Bucky spoke first.

“There’s a baseball field around here.” he asked. “Isn’t there?”

“I think so.” Clint relented, carefully.

Figuring it was best to get the car started, if it was going to start, now instead of later - Clint gave it another try. The rumble of the engine coming to life was more than welcome and not overpowering either. Again, not too obtrusive or noticeable. And he leaned back to catch a look at Bucky. “You coming?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, turning to the car and quietly getting in. Obviously he’d seen something. Remembered something. And it had him a little rattled. They were wandering around the streets of Brooklyn. Clint hadn’t been fooling himself that something might shake loose instead of Bucky’s head. And he’d been prepared to either go with it, run with it, and try and coax Bucky to remember and just experience whatever happened. Or to potentially guide him back from a mental catastrophe if he couldn’t handle it or didn’t want to remember.

Clint had well and accepted the risks and responsibility of this little outing.

And Bucky was trusting him with this little outing too.

After the incident in that high end fresh market a month ago, he usually just said ‘no’ out of habit. He didn’t want to trouble anyone. Embarrass them. But more than anything, Bucky had a persistent and maybe even warranted fear of hurting other people.

“If at any point you want to just take a break and lay low for a little while…”

Bucky seemed relieved that Clint wasn’t calling the whole thing off, giving him a little smile. “I’m all right.”

“Good.” Clint slipped his sunglasses on and pulled the car towards the back of the warehouse. Bucky picked the lock around the chains holding the loading doors open and pushed one aside, enough for the car to slip through and then jumped back in. If anything, a theft would be reported but Clint highly doubted it. He had false papers that he owned the car so technically he couldn’t be jailed for stealing what he owned. And no one was going to exactly notice a break in down by these docks anyway.

The ride was a silent one, even Bucky didn’t ask where they were going, but near Coney Island - Clint felt a hand on his wrist. Not exactly a grab. But close enough that Clint did a double take despite the traffic and navigating a bigger than usual sports car through Brooklyn traffic. “Can we stop?” Bucky asked a little roughly, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I just need a minute-”

“Yeah you got it.” Clint said immediately and made it happen.

And he tried to empathize. “Has Steve taken you down here since…?”

“No.” Bucky looked like he was caught between the past and the present like only he or Steve could. Torn between life times. And he looked shaken, like he was trying to navigate both and probably failing. Clint knew what PTSD was. What flashbacks could do to a person, how upsetting they could be, how odd they felt. How a person could just be standing somewhere, and end up somewhere else entirely in their own head. And it was unbearably real. So he couldn’t imagine what Bucky was going through. And his eyes were fixed out the front window, on the sprawling outline of Luna Park.

“You all right?” Clint pressed gently after Bucky said nothing further. “Talk to me.”

“I just… I don’t know it’s…” Bucky didn’t exactly look like he could explain. Clint felt like he already knew. “I need to ground myself. I need to ground myself before this gets worse.”

“All right.” Clint had awkwardly parked the car and left it alone, where it was, shutting off the engine and looking around quickly. There was a street vendor down the street and Clint gave Bucky a look. “Just stay right here for me. Okay? I’ll be right back.” he assured him.

Convincing the hot dog vendor he only wanted some ice was pretty easy after the guy recognized almost immediately who Clint was but Clint gave him a five dollar bill anyway and pried himself away from anymore conversation as politely as he could. Clint jogged back to Bucky, opening up the passenger side door without being sudden about it. “All right. You’re okay. Here. Hold out your hand.”  
Automatically, Bucky reached out with his metal one, and Clint vaguely wondered if Bucky was left handed as he asked for the other. “All right here.” he said, tipping the cup down and putting a few ice cubes into the palm of Bucky’s hand. And he closed Bucky’s hand over the ice, sitting back on his heels on the curb next to Bucky in the low riding sports car, holding Bucky’s wrist in a hand. They were practically on an even level and Clint reached up to take his sunglasses off. “That help?”

Bucky nodded, eyes closed, letting out a slow breath.

“Keep your eyes open. Find things that don’t make it worse.” Clint reminded him gently. And he looked for something too. “That stop sign. You see it?”

Bucky’s sharp eyes immediately found it. “Yeah.”

“What color is it?”

“Red.” Bucky said and let out a quiet breath. Clint could feel him relaxing, could see it too, gently stroking his thumb over the pulse point in Bucky’s wrist.

“That’s it. Good job, Bucky. Feeling any better?”

Bucky actually nodded and Clint could see him seeking out with his eyes that didn’t look familiar. “Yeah. Yeah I’m all right.”

Clint hesitated before giving Bucky’s hand back. “I admit, the plan was to go to Luna Park. Now I’m thinking I didn’t think that through.”

Bucky gave him the ghost of an amused smile and Clint could detect just a hint more of a Brooklyn accent where there wasn’t much of one before. “Why do you wanna go to an amusement park?”

That look in his eyes, Clint was wondering if he was asking _him_ in particular. But Clint just gave him a smile he hoped wasn’t sad. “You trust me?”

“Sure I do.”

Clint still hesitated and Bucky seemed to be back to himself, or rather who he was now versus nearly a hundred years ago. “I’ll be okay.” And the ghost of a smile Bucky gave him was all Bucky. The man he knew now anyway, after Hydra. A little broken, a little sad, but trying hard for everyone’s benefit not to see either. “I trust you.”

Clint’s heart skipped an unsteady beat in his chest and he grasped Bucky’s cool, wet hand in his. He couldn’t even manage words. Bucky trusted him to drive him through and into the heart of Brooklyn. That was… that meant more than Clint could even put to words. This whole day already did what with what Bucky was trusting him with. All that he was trusting him with.

“Doubt it even looks the same.” Bucky said quietly after Clint had gotten back in the car and they’d shut both of their doors. “It burned down in ‘44 anyway.”

Clint gave a look over at Bucky, two parts curious and one part uneasy. Bucky could do that. The guy straddled two epically different eras. So much of him was downright eerie. In a lot of ways it was a lot like talking to a ghost. Steve had a tendency to just not talk about it or crack a lighthearted joke, wistfully if you caught him at a rare moment with it. Bucky delivered the past like he’d lived it, died, and had been revived decades later. Because he had.

Twenty minutes later, parked and ready to head out on foot to the entrance gates, Clint prepared a quick mission briefing for Bucky’s sake. “All right. We’re about to navigate some tough crowds. I don’t care how it looks, I want you to hold my hand. Does that bother you?”

Bucky slowly shook his head, like he was actually considering it. “No.” Hell back in his day it had been _illegal_. Clint was doubting though that James Buchanan Barnes had been a stickler for the rules. He was betting he’d broken far more of them than he’d rightly paid attention to. And that pulled a smile out of Clint. They would have probably gotten along just fine. A part of Clint ached that he’d never know that side of Bucky, before it all, before he’d been utterly and completely wrecked by Hydra. They might have even gotten along _too_ well.

But that wasn’t something he was going to dwell on. It was things like that that probably made Bucky feel guilty to be around Steve. Because he couldn’t be that person anymore. Not totally, definitely never again. Whatever piece Bucky got back, whatever pieces Bucky was left with, those Clint would love.

Something that Clint did love and was constantly awed by? Bucky’s strength. Despite the crowds, which were noticeably less than the summer months but still crowded with late season tourists, Bucky only really panicked once. A small kid accidentally popped a balloon as they were walking past, his sister screamed on top of the sudden noise, and Bucky actually startled. He plowed right into Clint, taking quite a few panicked steps away from the sound. Simultaneously, he pretty much and intentionally made himself an effective shield between Clint’s body and the noise. Which was heartbreaking and did a lot to drive Clint’s heart right into his throat… _after_ his immediate concern - calming down Bucky.

“Hey, hey, whoa _easy_ -” Clint immediately caught Bucky to keep him from running into anyone else and startling himself further, catching him around the waist and bringing him as close as he could, holding Bucky in a secure grasp with both arms. “You’re okay! You’re okay baby-” And the pet name slipped but like hell he was going to stop now. “Easy, _easy_ -”

“Clint-” Bucky’s breath caught.

“Just a kid with a balloon. You’re okay.” Clint soothed. And he held Bucky as tight as he dared, murmuring low words in his ear until he stopped feeling Bucky’s heart hammering against his rib cage where they were pressed tightly together. “You’re all right.”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky winced, finally breathing in a somewhat normal rhythm. Or at all. Clint was pretty sure he’d stopped altogether. Himself included probably.

“Shhh.” Clint soothed, pressing a kiss into dark strands of brown hair. “None of that now. Not your fault. Nothing you could help either.”

The crowds moved around them, Clint held Bucky fast, and only let him go when Bucky tried to separate them. They’d gotten some damn curious looks, some people had been startled, and they’d attracted attention. But luckily not a lot of people were curious enough to ask. Or maybe kind enough to wonder if something was wrong. Either way - it was a relief Clint could just take a moment and let Bucky find his footing. And he didn’t give a damn about the looks. He wasn’t even remotely embarrassed either, obviously something Bucky had been willing to apologize for. And Clint wouldn’t have it.

“You good?” Clint asked and maybe he looked too worried because Bucky subtly shifted away, almost shying from his touch, even though the hand in his didn’t leave it.

“Yeah.” he said guiltily.

“I’m worried because the last thing I wanted to do today was give you a bad day-” Clint clarified.

“You didn’t-” Bucky immediately protested.

“I know.” Clint assured him, grasping Bucky’s hand in his. “I just can’t help but be a little worried. It’s because I care. Nothing else. No pity here, Buck. Nothing like that. I promise you.”

Bucky subtly relaxed and they didn’t have an incident after that first one. Bucky got uncomfortable at times but Clint would be right there, hand in the small of Bucky’s back, guiding him through a particularly thick crowd of people. Or finding someone willing to sell him some ice for Bucky to hold if he needed to get his bearings. Clint was just happy his wild shot in the dark particularly worked for Bucky’s PTSD.

And Clint could actually let the sights and smells take him back to a time when he was a lot younger, back when he’d met Laura, the days working the carnivals. It hadn’t been a bad life. He’d had an unorthodox but loving family out of a group of people everyone else would call criminals and misfits. Coney Island made him think of him, kind of felt like home.

Clint found what he was looking for fairly quickly, or a ride in particular, and nodded Bucky towards it. “Come on.” he smiled. “You gotta try this.”

“We really did come to ride to rides?” Bucky asked, amused.

Clint fought the urge to roll his eyes at him. “I can be giant two year old but yes, I have a point to this one. It was the idea I had this morning, just trust me.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at the, admittedly, insane looking ride they were standing in line for now. “I don’t remember any rides like that in my day and age…”

“I’d say you were right.” Clint agreed. The ride was probably the most insanely legal thing a person could ride at an amusement park. Shipped over from Finland, who would have thought that something this insane could come from a country so polite. It was like the Zipper Clint had worked back in his carnie days. But a ‘3D’ version of it. It didn’t just spin in circles. It had individual arms that could spin riders every single possible direction _while_ spinning in circles. Upside down too. And every which way. And it was definitely the fastest thing currently running in an amusement park.

Bucky shifted a little beside him, not nervously exactly, but sort of. “You’re actually serious about this.” he smiled and even he sounded surprised.

Clint nudged him with his shoulder. “Just trust me.”

Usually the ride would be packed but it was the off season and Clint and Bucky got two seats out of the three just to themselves without a third person. It was still pretty much packed but it was a nice illusion of not being around a ton of people, probably a lot more space than they’d had since coming to Coney Island, and Clint and Bucky were by themselves on this section of the ride.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Bucky smiled.

“Hey I only see adults on this ride.” Clint pointed out with his own smile.

Bucky just rolled his eyes and let his head settle back, hands holding onto the restraints. At least his gloved hands didn’t look out of place near the end of October. And Clint grinned and let his own head fall back. No sense in getting whip lash right out the gate.

“It’s not like I’m capable of having any fun at my age.”

“Bullshit.” Clint laughed quietly. Bucky was just making noise now, teasing him.

When the ride initially started, Bucky handled it like he was handling his next mission. Like it was protocol to just deal with it, handle it, and not have any fun. Even though that was the point of the ride. Not exactly the point of getting on it today but of the ride, sure. But it only took one crazy, inverted flip upside down - and Clint was amazed this thing was legal - for Bucky to let out a surprised, uncertain laugh. Clint was already grinning himself, the thing was picking up speed. Hey it was hell to get an adrenaline rush after being an Avenger. But this thing could actually do it.

And when they were going the maximum speed, again Clint was amazed it was legal, and being flipped in damn near every possible physical direction - Bucky was actually enjoying himself. Clearly. Because the _fuck_ delivered through a laugh was actually heartfelt. And so was the _shit_ and _son of a bitch_ that followed. Clint was laughing himself, he was having a hell of a lot of fun, but the best part was that Bucky was too. Clint was guessing he’d been into this sort of thing decades ago. He was guessing he’d probably pulled a reluctant Steve Rogers onto more than a few rides in their day too.

The point wasn’t really to have fun. But this was a huge, amazing bonus. It was to just _feel_ something. Natasha had pulled him onto this thing when it had been in Finland on a job. To shake him out of his own depression and that dreaded apathy he remembered all too well from it. It took something damn extreme to do it and this was definitely extreme. But it wasn’t just a predictable roller coaster - it was literally an unpredictable, crazy death machine. And sometimes, that’s exactly what a person needed to make them feel something again. Remind them that they _were_ alive. And he was pretty sure Bucky was experiencing exactly that.

After the ride was over, both men a little unsteady on their feet although Bucky looked completely recovered after only a second, they were both still laughing and Clint could honestly just cry. Bucky had the most beautiful smile Clint had ever seen on a man. His laugh was Clint’s newest drug and he’d cherish this. He’d hold onto the sound for the rest of his life. Seeing him lit up was _everything_ and more than he could have possibly hoped for. It was the exact opposite of everything entailed with PTSD therapy. And maybe, in this one single case, that was the point.

Bucky’s laugh faded and he was watching the ride, smile still on his face, once they were on the other side of the gate. And Clint, still admittedly catching his breath, smiled that much more. “It’s good right?”

Bucky nodded, but hesitated. “Can we go again?”

“Damn straight.” Clint grinned.

They kept coming back to that ride over the next few hours. Bucky was so much more relaxed, his hand in Clint’s felt relaxed too. Like they were just a couple out on a date, much like any other couple holding hands, and less like he needed to hold onto Clint to stay sane. The grip was still there occasionally, when the crowds got thick, but Clint had never - ever seen Bucky smile so much. He looked happy.

Bucky actually took the lead in some circumstances, walking even a little confidently, like he’d walked this boardwalk before. And he had. So many decades ago. When Bucky guided him over to a food stand and ordered a knish for the both of them, Clint honestly didn’t have the heart to take it away from him. Even though Bucky put mustard on it, only half of it he realized, Clint didn’t stop him. Even if this couldn’t really end well. He wouldn’t stop Bucky for the world.

“You ever had one?” Bucky asked him.

“No.” Clint smiled.

“Mustard?”

“I’ll try it without.”

Bucky easily tore the deep fried potato knish in half, careful of the mustard, and Clint realized he’d probably done this before. Even the way he’d just instinctively ordered one, like he was still in the middle of the deepest, worst depression in American history - it just amazed Clint. He wasn’t about to stop Bucky now. He was acting smoothly, he wasn’t lost in it. He wasn’t drowning. Clint just let him _be_.

“Steve could never have mustard. Made his asthma act up.” Bucky said, putting his side of the knish in his mouth. Clint was going to guess he liked them so much that they were a favorite of his and mentally noted that. “Got mustard by me though a few times the little punk.”

Clint didn’t point out that Steve wasn’t so little anymore, trying his own side of the knish. And definitely decided mustard would be okay. “Yeah but that is good.”

“Can’t believe you’ve never tried one of these before.”

“Yeah well after the Midwest, I didn’t get out much after that.” Clint chuckled.

Bucky held the knish down for a half hour. But there were no regrets on Bucky’s behalf that it didn’t stay there so Clint didn’t feel guilty. He just patiently held Bucky over a trash bin, holding his hair back and keeping him upright. “That’s it. Atta way, Buck.” he reminded him gently through a sympathetic smile. “You’re all right.”

Bucky must have seen some flash of guilt in Clint’s eyes as Clint cleaned him up in the bathroom with a cool, damp paper towel because he immediately put a stop to it. “Oh no. I did that. I own up to it. That’s not on you.”

“Was it worth it?” Clint smiled.

Bucky didn’t even give that a thought. “Damn straight.”

Clint grinned and laughed with a shake of his head, guilt well and truly banished.

The change in Bucky was unreal throughout the day. As the sun set and it started to cool down and the crowds were mostly gone, Bucky quietly talked about the time he’d talked Steve onto the Cyclone when he probably shouldn’t have. He talked as easily about the past as Clint had ever heard. And Clint held him, Bucky’s chin resting on his shoulder, listened to him laugh quietly about Steve puking his guts out and almost all over him _on_ the old wooden roller coaster itself during the ride.

“I shouldna’ done it.” Bucky smiled and he _did_ sound a little sorry. “I really shouldn’t have. He could have died.” And his smile faded after that.

Clint smiled, resting an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and drawing him close. “Did you ever do it again?”

“Nope.”

Clint briefly grinned but it was brief. “He was really that bad off back then?”

Bucky snorted quietly. “You drop a book on that kid he was liable to bruise something important.” And his tone became more serious, subdued. “Don’t know how I ever let him out of my sight… the war. The _army_ paid for a much better life than we ever could have had. I guess that’s how I did it. Knowing he was actually warm and eating a couple meals a day.”

Clint swore softly. “Jesus that sounds rough.”

“Yeah it wasn’t too pretty most days but we had each other. That’s more than a lot of people had.”

Bucky was showing some signs of fatigue after that so they called it a day. And the day that he’d had, Clint wasn’t doubting it. It was unintentionally a lot more than Clint had ever intended but Bucky hadn’t been pulling at him to leave. He’d been happy. And Clint would have never, could have never, put a stop to that. Sometimes a person had to go until they were exhausted, a person had to live. Even throw up a knish if it meant enjoying an old favorite and finding a little bit of yourself again.

To the spirit of disappearing, they got an old motel room good and cheap but comfortable and clean. Both of those last two descriptions were questionable but both men had had a lot worse that was for sure. All in all it was decent, two beds, plenty of space for the two of them even if it was a small space - that was the point. It even had a TV and a small fridge.

Bucky rested a hand warmly on Clint’s stomach and urged him to stand by the door, wordlessly, while he checked the room to make sure it was secure. At first Clint was surprised, but seeing that Bucky wasn’t relapsing or losing himself, he let him do it. If this is what it took to make him feel secure, and safe, so be it. Actually it reassured Clint a little too. Honestly they couldn’t be too careful. They had enemies, they both did. And some of Bucky’s definitely warranted a sweep of the room. ‘They’ added a whole new level to ‘precautionary measures’.

“All good?” Clint asked Bucky as he let a mattress drop back to the frame.

Bucky nodded. “We’re clear.”

Clint left the door he was leaning against, picking up the TV remote and sitting down on the edge of a bed. He tossed his leather jacket onto a chair and reached down for his shoes, giving Bucky a small, assessing look. The man had gotten quiet. Clint was guessing he was just tired. He’d gone through a hell of a lot today and seemed to be processing it. And he probably had a lot to think about.

“Are you hungry?” Clint asked him. He was wondering what they were even going to be able to find him to eat. Clint would get creative if he had too.

Bucky nodded. “I’ll pick us up something. You stay here.”

That was a little curious, and Clint lifted an eyebrow at him. “You sure about that?”

Bucky, offhand, didn’t seem to catch his meaning. “It was the mustard.” he said distractedly, pulling back the heavy curtain just enough to look out the window. “I should be able to hold down anything else.”

Clint, feeling more than a little concerned now, gentled his tone and joined Bucky at the window. He put a hand on his arm. “Hey.” he said quietly. Bucky was focused again. But in a bad way. He was getting distanced, distracted, his voice was subtly changing. Clint was losing him.

Bucky didn’t even look in his direction, his eyes fixed on the outside of the motel. “What?”

Clint eased closer, until his chest was nearly touching Bucky’s arm and they were practically standing toe to toe. “I’m losing you.”

That caught Bucky’s attention. He blinked, pulled in a quiet breath, and gave Clint an almost startled look. And he even looked momentarily confused. “Yeah I’m…” Bucky’s eyes fell to the floor, staring at it like the off red carpet could give him some sort of an answer. And he blinked again and met Clint’s eyes. “I’m all right - I think.”

“Okay.” Clint relented but he wasn’t exactly letting this go. He just wasn’t going to push Bucky. Stay glued to him? Absolutely. But he wasn’t going to push Bucky. He was tired. Clint could feel it. But he brushed a kiss over the side of Bucky’s face, under a cheekbone. “But I’m going with you.”

“Yeah that’s probably a good idea.” Bucky agreed and there was that little, hurt smile again. Dammit.

Clint didn’t want him drowning in self doubt and guilt. Of the constant reminders that he was something broken. Clint wanted him laughing, throwing caution to the wind, eating Knish because he loved it regardless of the consequences. He wanted him _alive_. But he’d love him regardless, any way, all the ways that Bucky was and what he had left from Hydra. And Clint kept using that four letter word but he was pretty damn sure, if he allowed himself to admit it, that he already loved Bucky. Clint was pretty damn sure he’d fell for the man months ago.

Making up his mind quickly, Clint separated from Bucky and jumped onto one of the beds, landing with a bounce. “Be quick though. I’m starving.” Clint gave him a wink as he put his hands behind his head. “And I already miss you, so hurry back.”

Bucky looked surprised but he was smiling. And then he gave a nod and wordlessly headed for the door. “Anything in particular?” he asked though, hand on the door before he shut it behind him.

“I’m easy.” Clint smiled.

Bucky gave him what seemed to be the start of a teasing grin but kept his mouth shut. Clint threw a pillow at him anyway and laughed as the door closed behind Bucky before it could hit the man, not like he couldn’t easily dodge a harmless pillow. But it only took four or five counts, staring up at the off white ceiling, for Clint to slowly lose his smile.

 _Dear god. Thor. Whoever._ Clint thought to himself with an anxious twist in his gut. _Please don’t let Bucky Barnes forget who he is and disappear._

 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (here comes that 'eventual sex' tag)

 

 

**VII**

Clint got a good vantage point to wait for Bucky at a payphone near their motel room. After a few minutes of pacing and wondering if he’d done a horrible thing by letting Bucky go off by himself, Clint had focused on calling Laura. And Steve. Probably to apologize to Steve, hoping he hadn’t given the guy a heart attack by disappearing with Bucky. The guy had enough problems in that department after fighting so hard to get him back.

 _“Clint?”_ Laura answered after the fifth ring.

“Yeah honey it’s me.” Clint smiled. “How is everyone? How are you and the kids?”

 _“We’re fine.”_ he could hear Laura smile. _“You know I can hold down the fort while you’re away.”_

Clint almost winced but the guilt quickly subsided as he nodded, even if Laura couldn’t see it. This wasn’t the first or the last time Clint had left without any notice. When he was called, either by the Avengers or formerly SHIELD, sometimes they’d had warning - sometimes they hadn’t. And sometimes Clint would be half way around the world for months, thrown into one assignment into another before he got to come home.

But Laura didn’t even let him apologize. _“How’s Bucky?”_

Clint’s heart warmed. “I think he’s doing amazing baby. Aw you should have seen him Laura. He was so happy today.”

_“Oh Clint. I wish I could have been there to see that.”_

“Me too baby. Me too.” Clint reached out, resting his hand on the payphone. “His smile, Lara? Aw honey I can’t wait until you can see it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get him to smile that way again but I hope you see it someday.”

 _“I won’t bet money against you that he’s got a gorgeous smile. I’d lose everything.”_ Laura chuckled _“Did it work? The ride?”_

“Pulled the same reaction of me that Natasha got.” Clint looked down the street, now dark, and the dimly lit parking lot. “Listen honey I have to go. I don’t think I’ll be gone for more than a few days. But kiss the kids for me okay?”

 _“I will, Clint. I love you.”_ Laura said warmly.

“I love you too.” Clint hung up the phone, setting the receiver back in the cradle and let out a quiet breath, thanking whatever deities that existed for blessing him with such a beautiful, incredible wife. Call it blind luck, call it fate, but Clint had never stopped being grateful that she’d give him more than a chance but a life with beautiful kids and a woman with an open minded, beautiful soul.

Clint picked the phone back up and braced himself for the call with Steve Rogers.

 

Bucky returned less than a half hour later. He set the car keys down on the table with three stacks of pizza in hot, warm boxes and Clint… honestly couldn’t express how relieved he was. He kept it carefully off his face, he’d wanted to trust Bucky because he’d felt he’d be okay. Clint’s gut instinct had told him that Bucky had needed that faith, that trust in himself that was otherwise shaken. Clint could relate. That desperate need to be worth something. Valued.

Clint brightened seeing the four pack of beer, surprised but happy. He wasn’t adverse to drinking. He didn’t do it a whole lot and it had been quite a while since he’d gotten well and truly wasted but at his age, that wasn’t the point anymore. Not since New York anyway. And Clint was happy for it to stay that way. “Can you even…” Clint pointed at the beer.

“Get drunk?” Bucky shrugged and took a brown bottle of beer of a paper bag, easily taking the lid off with laughable ease with a simple twist of his metal hand. “Never really had the opportunity to find out. But I bet not.”

Clint held out his bottle of beer out to the former assassin and lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

Bucky rolled his eyes but reached out and just as easily, the cap was off Clint’s beer too. Clint just gave him a grin and a smile tugged at Bucky’s lips as he took out a slice of pizza. The strength in that arm was unreal. Clint had had to grip the bottle tight and even though it was such an easy thing for Bucky to do, he could feel the crazy amount of strength from even such a simple thing. He didn’t have to idly wonder if his arm was as cold as it looked. He’d already touched his hand, his arm - it was always cool to the touch.

Clint blinked, his thoughts had wandered. And it didn’t help that Bucky had seemed to notice and was watching him too. Clint lowered his beer from his lips and yeah… there was some sexual tension he’d strictly put out of his mind because of Bucky. He hadn’t wanted to push him, he’d wanted to take everything as slow as humanly possible. He’d wanted it to be Bucky’s idea or at least open to the suggestion of intimacy. Clint would argue that everything between him and Bucky now was unquestionably intimate.

Bucky was allowing Clint to see sides of him he’d only bared to Steve. And that hadn’t exactly been a willing decision. But more one that Bucky had stumbled onto out of circumstance.

No question. Steve had saved Bucky’s life. He’d been there to catch Bucky after the fallout of Hydra. And putting him back together had not been easy. Or pretty. But it had been the best thing. It had kept Bucky safe. And Clint couldn’t imagine him going through all that alone.

Bucky blinked. “I like this song.” he said quietly, not really breaking whatever moment they’d accidentally stumbled onto.

Clint hadn’t realized the radio was on. But he focused on the sound of it. And it sounded old. More from Bucky’s era. But the singer sounded pretty modern. Rihanna maybe? Lila wasn’t reaching that age yet so Clint’s female music influences were still being drowned out by Kids Bop and early Taylor Swift.

_“... this whiskey got me feeling pretty. So pardon if I’m impolite…”_

Clint grinned briefly and hummed quietly. “Hmm… yeah you’d probably like this song.”

Bucky gave him a slight smile that was… well dammit it went straight south. It was damn near devilish. “I may be impolite but I sure as hell don’t dance.”

“You are such a _liar_.” Clint laughed quietly.

Bucky surprised him by breathing a grin and laughing right back, that devilish light in his eyes dancing.

“I was talking about the trend of modern music sounding time period. Forties, fifties. But yeah okay.” Clint set down his beer and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

Bucky gave Clint a look mid drink and his eyes fell down to his hand briefly. He lowered his beer but didn’t set it down. “You’re serious.”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Clint nodded him over. “Come on. Ever danced in a cheap motel room before?”

“Probably.” Bucky laughed quietly but was already setting down his beer, next to Clint’s.

“Yeah I bet you have.” Clint chuckled. There wasn’t much room between the small table and one of the beds but they made do. It was plenty of room for them and Clint took the lead, nice and old fashioned like. But nothing really beat a classic. The thought almost, almost made him laugh out loud. Here he was, dancing with a guy nearly eighty years older from a decade that defined the classics. Pot meet kettle.

“Probably seduced more than a few people just like this too.” Clint teased but Bucky felt so good in his arms that it was easy to get distracted and it might have come out more as a quiet murmur.

“Yeah I wish I could remember.” Bucky returned easily and those eyes of his were _impossible_ to deal with up close. So blue they were almost gray, Clint was struggling not to drown in them. They were dangerous - beautiful.

“Yeah?” Clint asked without thinking, he almost forgot what he was asking.

“Yeah. It would be a lot easier to get your pants off.”

The deadpan way Bucky nearly delivered it, with just the smallest of smiles and that mischievous look in his eyes, Clint was glad he wasn’t drinking his beer because he would have choked on it. “ _Dammit_ Barnes.” he laughed, mostly to cover how aroused he suddenly was. It had been steadily building before, that sexual tension impossible to miss now that it was _there_. But Clint felt his jeans get… just a little bit tighter in a certain area. And Bucky really, obviously wasn’t joking. Especially the way his eyes glanced down to Clint’s lips, their hips were already mostly touching, stomachs too. Practically chest to chest, Bucky wrapped up in his arms and fitting there just perfectly.

And Clint was suddenly damn serious. He was also pretty sure he’d just been effectively seduced by Bucky Barnes. Like a goddamn ninja. But that was the last thing on his mind too. He was so tuned in to Bucky in this moment. He could feel everything, catch every breath, the smell of the man - his powerful frame in Clint’s arms somehow managing to appear submissive, smaller, like he wanted to fit right where he was. And he did. And the metal hand on Clint’s shoulder had a subtle grip that he was rightly aware of.

Clint leaned down, watching Bucky for any signs that he didn’t want this. They’d barely stopped swaying to the music, still moving with the rhythm of it, but the second Clint’s lips touched Bucky’s - the world just stopped. And they did too.

And there was this… shift. But dammit Bucky made everything seem so easy, even as he was, that Clint almost missed it. Bucky was a few inches taller. Clint wasn’t going to fight him for any sort of dominance. They were both laid back type of guys and Clint was guessing it was going to be the same way in the bedroom when it came to who topped who. When Clint felt a metal hand at the base of his skull, on his neck, and Bucky just seemed to square up and take the space between them like it was his to take, Clint immediately relented. Screw that - he practically melted.

It was a gentle give and take with an underlying, almost desperate sort of passion that was mounting. Clint could feel how interested Bucky was and his own jeans were getting too tight to be comfortable. But the kissing felt too good to stop and the way Bucky shifted from submissively letting Clint take control of the kissing, to dominating Clint’s mouth with his own - he could hardly bring himself to stop. And he was exhilarated, his stomach clenched tight with anticipation.

If they got that far. If they didn’t, Clint wouldn’t have any hard feelings whatsoever. He’d actually be the first to call it if things looked to be turning south.

The opposite seemed to be happening right now though. The exact opposite.

Clint somehow ended up on top of Bucky on the bed closest to the wall. He was mostly submissive with men in the bedroom but he could be dominant. And Bucky brought out a protective streak in him a mile wide. But as they were kissing, reaching under their shirts just to touch, anywhere they could - Bucky seemed to get progressively more rattled. Until he stopped the kissing with a sudden halt, taking in an unsteady breath sharply, suddenly - looking up at Clint with wide blue eyes.

“Ooh, easy. Easy.” Clint soothed, going still, putting his hands to either side of Bucky where he could see them. “Easy.”

Bucky looked conflicted and a little desperate, grabbing onto Clint’s shirt like he wanted to kiss him. But he seemed uneasy. “We can stop.” Clint assured him immediately, he was hard, he could feel that Bucky was too but Bucky just shook his head.

“No.” Bucky said in a rush. “I don’t know where that came from but like hell I want to stop.” He sounded a little angry and Clint couldn’t blame him. Hydra had robbed Bucky of so much, even after it had all been over. Especially then. When they should just be buried and dead and six feet under, they were threatening to rob Bucky now of intimacy, human companionship. As angry as that made Clint, he focused now on making sure that didn’t happen. After all, he was a laid back - easy going guy. Even in the bedroom.

Clint raised his hands for Bucky to see, slowly, carefully. “I got an idea. C’mere.” he said quickly, before the mood passed. Not like his erection was going to go down anytime soon. But PTSD was a fickle thing. Laying down on his back, Clint pulled Bucky with him, urging the former assassin to take the top position. And the way that between one heartbeat and the next Clint was on top of Bucky… and then underneath of him with a fluid, inhuman type of graceful motion - Clint was reminded firmly that he and Natasha were spies. And Bucky was a hundred times more than that.

And instantly, having that control back, Bucky relaxed. It was so instantaneous that Clint was both relieved and amazed. But mostly incredibly relieved. He’d made himself as submissive under Bucky as he could, keeping his body completely lax… and he was an Avenger. He was a highly trained spy with an extensive military background. But even he felt very aware of Bucky. The strength, the power that was straddling his hips… it was a little intoxicating. Clint respected it sure. But then there were the other feelings.

“That’s better isn’t it.” Clint murmured, smiling at Bucky from where he lay underneath him. “You’re okay.”

And when Bucky seemed a little reluctant, no doubt scared of himself and of the possibility of hurting Clint - Clint took Bucky’s metal wrist in hand and put his hand on his chest, encouraging him to touch. “You’re all right.” And then he whispered, holding Bucky’s wrists in his hands. “Come here.”

Pulling him in for another kiss, Bucky’s weight felt really good on top of him, Clint wouldn’t lie. He was completely happy with Laura. He was a happily married man. But a part of him had missed this. Submitting to another individual, letting someone else take the control and drive. And then there was all that happening from Bucky.

Clint gave everything back when the kiss turned claiming. Bucky was dominating the contact, his lips and breath hot against Clint’s, and Clint felt a full body shudder when Bucky ghosted a breath across his neck and then placed biting, hard kisses down his throat, under his chin. Bucky’s metal hand was resting at the base of his throat. The other was stroking up Clint’s shirt and damn Clint could barely remember his own _name_.

If anybody asked, he wouldn’t know it.

Clint groaned, half out of frustration, Bucky was going to kill him and Clint reached for Bucky’s jeans. Between one kiss and another, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths in a type of friction that was robbing Clint of the ability to breath - he got it open and maybe a little roughly. Bucky didn’t seem to notice because he was just kissing him harder and there _definitely_ going was to be marks on his neck later.

Bucky leaned up and stripped off his shirt and Clint’s mouth immediately went dry, reaching up to stroke his hands over Bucky’s muscled stomach and chest. Damn Steve had put a lot of weight on him. Clint could remember when the man had found Bucky, half starved, half out of his mind - or completely. He’d been a shell of his former self. Looking at him now, a person wouldn’t even guess what shape he’d been in months ago.

Clint kept the momentum going. Bucky wasn’t struggling with continuing, heck no. But he was edging on frustrated and desperate if there was a lull. He wanted what he wanted but getting there was a little fuzzy in places and Clint was more than okay to bridge that gap. Sitting up, he pressed his mouth to Bucky’s stomach, eliciting a growl out of the man when he made some kisses biting. And the sound went straight to Clint’s dick and made him feel lightheaded. And there was a metal hand in his hair as Clint pulled open Bucky’s belt. And Clint was wondering how he was even alive at this point.

Pushing Bucky’s briefs down around his hips with his jeans, Clint gentled his firm kisses against Bucky’s stomach but didn’t waste time. Bucky’s human hand was gripping his shoulder, hotly, the man almost felt feverish and he definitely wasn’t in a slow and easy type of mood and that was just fine. It felt like Clint had been wanting this for ages himself and didn’t want to wait on a goddamn thing.

Leaning down and taking Bucky’s dick in his mouth, he was a bit bigger than average and a little thicker than average. And Clint was a lot out of practice but he stuck to the basics. Bucky’s grip had tightened almost painfully on his hair before he’d adjusted his grip and the ragged groan that fell from his lips, Clint groaned himself around the hard length in his mouth. _Damn_ Bucky tasted good.

Bucky was staying quiet like it was a tactical situation. But the heavy breaths, the grip he had on Clint, and the low groans that fell from his lips - Clint couldn’t get enough. He held Bucky’s thighs in his hands. He didn’t want to restrain the man in any way or make him feel trapped. And Clint took Bucky just a little bit deeper, relaxing his throat, pressing his tongue to the underside of it on the way back up. There was precome on his tongue and it tasted fantastic. Clint would admit it - he had a thing for sucking dick. A big thing. And he was actually concerned he was going to come in his pants.

Applying firmer suction, Clint bobbed his head slowly over Bucky’s dick, enjoying it while he had it. Clint thought he heard the man murmur something low under his breath but it wasn’t in Russian so he wasn’t too worried. Bucky was still breathing heavily but a little easier, ragged gasps occasionally falling from his lips. And suddenly, between gritted teeth and a tighter grasp on Clint’s hair, he said his name.

“ _Clint_ -!” It was almost a quiet yell. As in, almost quiet.

Clint knew what was going to happen. Bucky was trembling, it had started as soon as Clint had taken him into his mouth and now it was far more noticeable. The man was so strung tight, his muscles like taut, hard steel. He was struggling not to thrust into Clint’s mouth and only succeeding not to by a little. Clint grasped onto Bucky’s hips tightly, encouraging him deeper into his mouth, quickening his own motions over the man’s dick. The spurt of precome was the warning on his tongue and then Bucky came.

It was like he was going to pull away but Clint only grabbed him by the jeans and swallowed and Bucky’s ragged shout echoed in the room as came and kept coming. He slumped over Clint as he erupted, his hips jerking in small, uneven thrusts. Clint just groaned, taking all that he could, breathing through his nose as he swallowed down Bucky as far as he could and swallowed more of his come. And when Bucky, he was sure, was finished and his lungs were screaming - Clint pulled back with a gasp. “ _Jesus_ -”

He didn’t exactly have time to catch his breath or reassure Bucky that that was exactly what he wanted. Suddenly there was a metal hand at the base of his throat and he was being pushed firmly back to the bed. He wasn’t worried, all right - for a split second. But the grip was just firm. It didn’t scream panic or even the Winter Soldier. Although catching a glimpse of Bucky now, just before the man captured his swollen lips with his, Clint could see it was probably a mix of both.

But then Bucky was kissing the life out of him and Clint was kissing him hard right back, reaching up to bury a hand in Bucky’s hair. He couldn’t help it, it was right there - thick and gorgeous. But he got his hands pinned above his head for the trouble. Remembering to keep himself loose and submissive in that powerful grip, Clint immediately let Bucky do what he wanted. It wasn’t like he was complaining any that was for damn sure.

And he heard the snap of a belt and realized that Bucky had probably broken his belt and snapped it entirely off. And it almost threw Clint over the edge and then Bucky was reaching into his pants and he did something almost damn embarrassing. Well. It was embarrassing enough. Two very firm strokes and he was coming all over Bucky’s hand and all over his pants, shouting half of his relief into Bucky’s mouth as the man leaned down and claimed his mouth for another deep kiss, stroking Clint until he was oversensitive and couldn’t take anymore of it, until he’d milked every last drop of come from Clint’s dick.

“ _Fuck_ -” Clint managed when he had his mouth back. “Oh my god - holy shit -” he gasped.

It felt like a tornado of sex had just happened and he was _still_ reeling.

But Bucky wasn’t moving. And Clint took stock of the situation out of reflex. He was half in and out of his pants, softening dick resting almost painfully against his zipper, come all over his shirt and pants. Bucky was in a similar state although all of his come, or most of it, had been swallowed by Clint. He was still holding Clint down to the bed, with both hands now Clint realized. And… Clint blinked. Yeah Bucky was hard again.

“What do you want?” Clint coaxed, voice low. “Anything.” he assured him.

Bucky still looked frozen. And Clint was literally at his mercy.

But suddenly Bucky reached back and pulled something that rattled out of his pockets. And set the handcuffs, Clint realized they were honest to god handcuffs, onto his chest. And Bucky’s eyes solidly met Clint’s. But he looked unsure. Worried and guilty almost. Vulnerable. And Clint’s swallowed, breath catching just a little bit. “Me?” he tried to clarify.

Bucky nodded. “I…”

Clint caught the words before they even came out of Bucky’s mouth. “Don’t be sorry. Will it make you feel better?”

Bucky gave a guilty nod, shoulders slumping, and Clint tried to reassure him with a grin. “Where do you want’em?”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked quietly.

Clint lost the smile and gave Bucky a serious, reassuring look. “I am. Bucky it’s just handcuffs. I trust you.” And he gave him another smile. “It’s not like you’re asking for something really all that kinky here. And I know why you’re doing it too.”

Bucky hesitated. “You do?”

Clint ran his hands over Bucky’s thighs, aching to make him feel “Making love can feel a lot like losing control. You got enough to worry about without me being another variable.” he nodded towards his wrists. “Come on.”

“You’re sure.” Bucky demanded.

Clint put his wrists together and put them over his head. “Yep.”

 

Clint woke up flat on his stomach to a tangle of sheets around his hips, a chill in the air, but the rattle of the heater near the window working quietly to stave off the cold. It wasn’t on last night so Bucky had to of turned it on.

Bucky.

Clint reached out but came up with empty sheets. The bed was empty but that didn’t mean Bucky was gone. The room was quiet and Clint’s instincts were telling him he was alone but with the Winter Soldier that could mean next to nothing. Didn’t stop him from having a heart attack though and he partially sat up, quickly, looking around before he could hell himself to take it calmer. Slower.

That’s about when he heard a barely audible noise from behind the closed bathroom door, mechanical… like scissors.

Clint sat up, frowning, catching the sheet around his hips and dragging it with him on the way to the bathroom. The door wasn’t totally shut, cracked open partially, and Clint reached out - only touching it with his fingertips. Clearing his throat, he called out calmly. “Bucky?” And pushed the door open.

At first he was shocked. At first his mouth fell open. And for more than a few seconds, he definitely didn’t have words. Because Bucky leaning against the sink in front of the bathroom mirror and he’d already cut a majority of his shoulder length hair off. At first Clint was too shocked to say anything but… “Hey wait, stop.” he said quietly, gently.

Bucky didn’t look at him directly but did what he said, looking a little guilty.

Clint just held up a finger, gesturing him to wait. And when he was back with boxers and jeans on at least, pulling them over his hips quickly, he held out a hand to Bucky as he stepped into the bathroom, gesturing for the scissors. “You’re doing it all wrong. Here. Let me help.”

Bucky met his eyes, obviously and quietly shocked, but he handed the scissors over anyway. “You know how to…”

“I grew up with four brothers. Well.” Clint gestured for Bucky to sit down on the toilet. The bathroom was incredibly cramped but there would be just enough room for the two of them. “We weren’t brothers by blood. But close enough.”

Clint took everything easy. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bucky ended up triggered but he didn’t act like it was going to happen. If it did - it did. And they’d deal with it. So Clint was careful, but kept it easy - the mood light. This was a big deal. He could see it on Bucky’s face, in the tense line of his shoulders. This was huge. And a big step in the right direction. “Do you care how I cut it?”

“No.” Bucky said and he sounded sure about that. “Just want it gone.”

“You got it.” Clint murmured. And got to work.

“Did you grow up in an orphanage or something?” Bucky asked quietly a few minutes later.

“Pretty much.” Clint said quietly, glancing up to briefly catch Bucky’s eyes. He had his gaze riveted to the dirty bathroom curtain and if he got too fixated, Clint might ask him to stop. PTSD could be quick and sneaky and he didn’t want Bucky triggered by anything while Clint had a sharp pair of scissors in his hand that was for damn sure. “My dad was a mean bastard. I ran away as soon as I could. Found a carnival and settled right in.”

Bucky smiled a little bit at that and Clint did too.

“I met Steve when we were just kids. Broke up a fight on the playground. Couldn’t figure out why eight guys were trying so hard to beat the hell out of one guy.” Bucky smiled. “I bet you know why now.”  
Clint breathed a laugh. “Rogers? Oh yeah.”

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled. But his smile wavered. “Sometimes I had to tell him that doing the right thing meant not getting yourself killed. He never listened to me.” And then he lost his smile entirely. “It’s like he has this self-sacrifice complex. Self-less to a fault. Even at the cost of himself.”

Clint frowned as he listened, wondering where this was going.

“I guess I didn’t have that.” Bucky swallowed hard. “I remember when I fell outta that plane… I was scared. I didn’t want to die. I was angry. I wasn’t selfless. I was furious. Terrified.”

Clint slowly eased back onto the heels of his feet in front of Bucky, staring at him in some sort of shock. “The hell Bucky - of course you were scared.” he murmured softly. And it wasn’t tears he could feel in his eyes. But he blinked regardless, swallowing a lump in his throat. So his eyes were a little misty. How the hell could Bucky feel bad for being scared?

Bucky blinked back tears and pulled his eyes away from Clint. “Jesus. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” he smiled. But it lacked any humor.

Clint lifted the scissors slightly. “I can guess. Everything is kinda coming full circle right now. It’s okay.” Gently, he reached out and laid his hands on Bucky’s knees. “It’s okay.”

Bucky hastily reached up and wiped some tears from his eyes, the few that had slipped down his face, and Clint made a soft sound and reached up to help - wiping the tears away with his hands and thumbs. “Oh baby.” he murmured quietly. “Dammit it’s okay. All right? It’s okay.”

Bucky gave a nod and gestured to the scissors. “Bet this is going to freak the hell out of Steve.”

“Yeah.” Clint laughed quietly. “Yeah it will.”

And Bucky laughed too and this time, his smile and his laugh was entirely genuine. A little rough, a little broken but like something was healing, and it was definitely real.

Clint couldn’t say it didn’t freak the hell out of him when they were finished. Bucky looked completely different. But in no way that was bad. Just incredibly, _strikingly_ different. It brought out the color of his eyes a lot more, the shorter length, didn’t give him anything to hide behind. He looked somehow vulnerable but then again, not in the least bit. It was a strange and striking contrast. There was suddenly more of Bucky to see and Clint was _floored_.

Bucky was so goddamn beautiful that Clint almost didn’t know how to wrap his brain around it.

“You…” Clint put a hand over his mouth, trying to find words, any of the words that he was thinking to himself - quietly in his befuddled little brain. “You look… incredible.” he finally managed.

Bucky smiled just a bit but he still didn’t look like he knew how to take a compliment. Good lord was that understandable. So instead he just stood, hesitating to look in the mirror. Clint knew that was a big deal too. Talk about coming full circle. The last time his hair had ever been short was probably when he’d fallen off the plane. The rest was probably just a blur from Hydra. Until far into the future, the Winter Soldier had become such a sharp contrast to the man itself that this… this felt like Bucky grabbing back some of his identity. The last time Bucky had had shorter hair is when he’d _died_.

Bucky got a little dizzy when he saw all the hair on the floor but Clint quickly set aside the scissors and stood up to steady him. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Bucky said, a little too quickly, but his nod was a sure one. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” And Clint meant it.

“Can you give me a minute?”

“You bet.” Clint agreed and it was hard to leave Bucky to his own devices but this was a process he was going to have to undertake on his own. Bucky was going to have to face himself in the mirror on his own two feet and Clint would be there, but he knew only Bucky could do it. Clint couldn’t do it for him. He’d done his part. The rest was up to Bucky.

Clint busied himself with getting dressed and tried to look for something else to do but he couldn’t find it. So he just sat on the edge of the bed, and waited. And maybe it was a little ridiculous but given the nature, the extent of the trauma Bucky had endured up until almost a year ago… Clint couldn’t think past much else than what Bucky might be going through right now and no amount of finding something to do, even if there was something to do - was going to take his mind off that.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom a solid five or ten minutes later and Clint stood up immediately. The man’s eyes were red, like he’d been crying, but he looked okay. He seemed steady, like whatever breakdown might have occurred had actually been healthy. Clint was damn amazed personally. Here Bucky was standing, closer to who he had been than ever before. And maybe that wasn’t exactly true. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were forever mixed. That was obvious. Bucky was something altogether different. But the strength of the man… Clint marveled at it.

“You all right?” Clint asked him with a soft smile.

Bucky nodded and smiled, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah.” And he nodded towards the door. “Come on. Let’s go scare the hell out Steve.”

Clint grinned and reached for his leather jacket. He wasn’t disappointed that Bucky wanted to go home, back to his apartment with Steve. They couldn’t run like this forever, even if they weren’t actually being pursued or running from anything in particular. It wasn’t healthy for Bucky. A little escape with ‘trained supervision’ was all right. But Clint didn’t want to distance the man too much from reality. From everything. _That_ could definitely trigger the Winter Soldier.

Clint used the bathroom before they left, he hadn’t had a chance when he’d woken up because Bucky had been in it. He brushed his teeth and winced when his hand brushed against his shirt. But when he pulled down the collar, he just smiled. And almost whistled under his breath. There was a line of bruises from his collar bone probably down to a nipple and he was sure there were plenty more bruises were those had come from.

After Bucky had handcuffed his hands above his head, he’d used a sheet to tie the chain securely down to the bed itself - using the headboard as leverage. And then he’d pretty much kissed Clint senseless, until - like before - Bucky had gotten too worked up again. Feverish almost. The man hadn’t been touched with any sort of kindness in decades up until Steve Rogers. He was unsteady, almost like he didn’t know what to do or how to do it. Or rather that he knew how but like he had a million and one other things to contend with. Restraining Clint had definitely helped.

Clint had coaxed him on with steady words of encouragement. He knew there was some experience in that touch. Clint pulled that out of Bucky with gentle encouragement and didn’t for a second make him feel like he needed any sort of help. He hadn’t wanted to make the man unsure of himself, uneasy, or like he couldn’t do this on his own. Clint had just wanted to reassure him that he could and that Clint was there.

Bucky had kissed Clint senseless as he’d prepared him with a stash of lube that he’d definitely bought just tonight. And wasn’t that a thought.

Holding down Clint with his metal hand, Bucky had prepared him so thoroughly that Clint had thought he was going to die just from that. There were definitely some marks on his wrists from straining against the cuffs and those marks were just a little awkward in the light of day.

Clint smiled as he rubbed his wrists, chuckling quietly under his breath. He didn’t care how awkward those marks might be. Making love with Bucky had been unreal and beyond any sensible words. It had been ages since Clint had been in the arms of another man, under one, had one inside of him. He’d forgotten just how good it was, how safe it made him feel. And maybe the cuffs were a first. And maybe he _shouldn’t_ feel safe with the world’s most dangerous assassin. Probably. Definitely. But that was just it… he had. Unquestionably.

Laughably, he thought of Stockholm Syndrome but only as a joke. Bucky would have had to kidnap him first for that to have happened.

Nope. He’d loved Bucky for ages. And not a bit of kidnapping had been involved. Although Clint idly wondered how something like that might have gone down. And then he got a sudden thought.

“Bucky?” Clint asked as he walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“Yeah?” The man had been standing by the window, looking out, watching the parking lot. And for a moment, Clint forgot what he was going to say. Illuminated by the cloudy gray light from outside, Bucky’s eyes had been so damn blue. There was nothing to put his face in shadow now with his hair cut. And they’d managed to give him a bit of a shave but there was still a light stubble on his chin and jaw. He was stunning. The wildness of the Winter Solder was still there, lurking in his eyes, but the man looked remarkably tamed.

Clint gave himself a mental shake. “Uh… after-” he hesitated. “After Hydra tried to wipe out most of the human race. I was in New York, visiting Steve in the hospital. After you pulled him from the river.” Clint added that because he wanted Bucky to remember that despite how he’d fought Steve, he had saved his life in the end. “And I… I could have sworn I saw someone as I was leaving. A man in a navy blue baseball cap and a hoodie. I couldn’t even get a good look because he was gone the second I looked back but for some reason, that image never left me. Because I thought I’d seen the guy before. Across town, near Brooklyn? I was with Natasha and I just had this crazy idea I was being followed.”

Bucky had frozen where he stood and he looked… caught.

But Clint just smiled. “It was you, wasn’t it? But why?”

Bucky was still giving him a ‘deer in the headlights look’ but he let out a slow breath. “I thought… I thought you knew Steve.”

Clint frowned, a little confused. “I did.”

“Yeah I… I had this crazy idea that I needed to know Steve. But I…” Bucky averted his eyes to the carpet. “The very idea of getting close to Steve made me panic. I couldn’t even… I couldn’t handle it. So I needed information. And I thought the Avengers would have it. I almost…” Bucky winced.

“What?” Clint pressed.

“Yeah I almost kidnapped you.” Bucky said outright.

And Clint’s mouth almost fell open. Maybe it even did a little because Bucky continued, somewhat quickly. But he looked weary. He typically did when he had to talk about things that had been at one time upsetting, triggering, or about those ‘early months’. Clint was sure just being Bucky was emotionally exhausting.

“I could have grabbed Natasha but for some reason, she was scaring the hell out of me too. I couldn’t even think of getting anywhere near her or Steve. Stark was too well protected. Dr. Banner was too unpredictable-”

“So I was the best option for information.” Clint finished for him.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.” And then he hesitated, like what he said next was sort of an apology. “I didn’t know you had a family. I wouldn’t of… I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

Clint reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know I almost wish you had? I might have been able to get you to Steve sooner. You wouldn’t have been alone. You could have been found quicker maybe. I don’t know.”

Bucky shook his head and swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t have wanted that. I was too unstable. I was out of my mind. Irrational. I could have hurt you-”

“I know that.” Clint agreed quietly. “I’m not saying we wouldn’t have had a few bumps and bruises, maybe a little or a lot more than that but… I think we would have been okay.” he smiled.

Bucky gave him an unsteady smile and nodded towards the door. “Ready?”

“You bet.” Clint held out his hand and Bucky took it.

Quietly, once they were in the car, and Clint had just buckled his belt and was leaning forward to put his keys in the ignition - Bucky asked Clint in the silence of the car. “You really think we would have been okay?”

And Bucky’s eyes met Clint’s, and Clint held that near gray gaze with his own. “Yeah. Yeah I think so.”

And somehow, someway, he really did believe it.

 

Steve was waiting for them with Natasha, on the same roof that Bucky had met Clint only yesterday. To Bucky it felt like a lifetime. It felt like a lot more than twenty four hours and a handful of minutes. And the look on his face… well he was definitely shocked. It was hard to meet his eyes but he did. Bucky took that look because he deserved it. It was a punch in the gut to see Steve thrown back to what had to be the ‘30s or ‘40s. Clint had given him a modern haircut but maybe even the mix between then and now was altogether too much.

Because he looked a lot overwhelmed for a second. “Bucky.” he managed.

Feeling a little uncomfortable by the scrutiny and the raw openness in Steve’s eyes, Bucky tried to shrug it off. “I wanted a change. Quit starin’.” he said, stepping between Steve and Natasha on the way past - towards the door they were standing in front of.

He stayed out of the way while Clint ‘debriefed’ Steve - watched Steve forgive Clint immediately, like Steve did, grasping his hand and thanking him. But Bucky didn’t eavesdrop on the conversation. He just stood nearby, Natasha at his side, as they watched the two men talk. Clint met Bucky’s eyes once or twice, always with a warm gaze and a smile on his lips.

And Natasha companionably nudged him with her shoulder. “I’d say you’re getting a pretty good progress report.”

Bucky smiled and snorted quietly, rolling his eyes.

“Hey.” Natasha said.

Bucky turned his head and met her eyes and Natasha smiled, the light in her eyes changing. “Look at you. You look _incredible_.”

And Bucky said without even thinking about the response. “I feel incredible.”

Natasha looked shocked, smiling, that light in her eyes changing to a type of awed, affectionate warmth. “Wow.”

Bucky turned his eyes away, chuckling quietly. But it was true. He felt great. Still pieced together, a little shaky? Sure. But he didn’t feel like a mess anymore. He felt like he was recovering in a good direction. And recovering hadn’t always felt good. It had been terrifying. It had been… it had been a nightmare. Sometimes, between Steve’s occasional black eye, the nightmares, the night terrors, the panic attacks that left him screaming until a needle was jammed into his leg, the endless endless list of things that had gone wrong, being triggered by so much… there were some moments when he’d begged Steve to put him back under and just let him go.

But Steve had always said, sometimes through eyes so weary and more than just a little broken - no.

Bucky had never hated him for it. But sometimes it had really hurt. Not now though. Now… now he was so grateful that Steve Rogers had always said ‘no’ that he couldn’t put it to words. And as he thought that, as it crossed his mind, Bucky wasn’t at all surprised that his eyes were solidly on Clint.

When they were finished talking, Steve was heading back for the door but stopped to greet Bucky, reaching out and putting his hands on his shoulders. “Good to have you back, Buck.”

Bucky almost argued, even if he was smiling but Steve just gripped his shoulders. “I don’t mean like that.”

Bucky relaxed and Steve gave his shoulders another squeeze, pulling himself away to join Natasha as they headed back inside. When he heard the door close, Bucky looked up and met Clint’s eyes and here they were all over again. Before they’d gone on the run together, before Coney Island, before… Bucky smiled and walked over to where the man was standing, hands in his jean pockets, gazing at him with a loving smile that Bucky didn’t feel so undeserving of anymore.

“Here.” Bucky said, holding out Clint’s cell phone. “Natasha sends her regards.”

Clint smiled and took the cell phone, putting it in his back pocket. “Don’t be a stranger.”  
Bucky grinned briefly, turning to head back inside. But he paused and willed himself to find the strength to ask. “That date with you and Laura… this Friday?”

Clint gave an immediate nod, smile warm, like he was fighting back a grin himself. “Absolutely.”

Bucky hesitated where he was half turned, away from Clint and towards the door, and then made up his mind. In two long strides he had the man in his arms. And between one breath and the next, he was kissing him deep enough and being kissed back just as much, that Bucky could forget the world for just a moment. And no… that wasn’t quite it. He could see the world for what it was. Better, brighter. A future he could look forward to. And he felt tears momentarily come to his eyes, gripping Clint in a tight embrace. "Thank you." he whispered.

" _Always_." Clint whispered back.

 

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

**8 -- When It Comes To Us**

“All right.” Steve’s tone was serious, Avengers mission briefing type of serious. And although he wasn’t wearing his uniform - his tone was almost completely that of Captain America. Equally serious, Clint had his hands lightly clasped behind his back, listening intently to what the man was about to say. As if this was no different than any other mission briefing he’d ever had. Well… that wasn’t exactly true. This was different. This was Bucky.

Steve lifted up the black, tactical duffle from the floor, Clint studying the various items on the table that Steve was putting into it. Seriously assessing the situation. Which was pretty damn serious. He and Laura were going to have Bucky in their house, overnight, and that entailed some preparation and thought. And care. Which he and Laura were more than willing to give. “Bucky can have nightmares in unfamiliar places.” Steve said. “So he’ll need to sleep restrained.”

“Got it.” Clint said. A bed Bucky was comfortable with, that had been used in his early days of rehabilitation and now, had adamantium enforced restraints that even Bucky couldn’t break. Just enough of the salvaged, rare metal to make containing him not just an actual possibility but a reality. The bed could be moved fairly easily and had been transported to the Homestead this morning.

“How did he do at the motel while you were with him?” Steve asked Clint.

Clint lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, considering the question but admitting the truth. It hadn’t well. “Not great. He was restless. He might not have slept at all.”

Steve nodded quietly. “He’s eating solid food but sometimes he just doesn’t feel up to it - you know. Especially if his anxiety is worse than usual.” Steve put his hands onto a smaller black bag, more like a cooler, emblazoned with a red cross and met Clint’s eyes levelly. “You’ve done an NG tube on him before.”

“Yep.”

“He hasn’t needed one in weeks.” Steve hedged but Clint wouldn’t have any of that either. They could talk about this more than just as a commanding officer to another Avenger. They were friends and at this point, Clint would readily call them all family. And he had given Bucky an NG tube before. Unlike trying to sleep with the man in the same bed, in unfamiliar surroundings, that had gone a lot better.

“Hey.” Clint said, but while his tone was firm, Clint softened it too. “I want you to know how seriously I’m taking all this-”

“I do-” Steve said, casting his eyes down to his hands and the subtle wince that passed over his face wouldn’t do either.

“No.” Clint said patiently. “I promise you, Laura and I wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t one hundred percent sure about how we feel. If he needs an NG tube, I’ll give him one. It’s that simple. It’s the same as anything else he might need. Laura has been completely briefed about the situation.”

“All right. Good.” Steve let out a quick breath and a nod. Clint was happy to see he was back to business and gave the leader of the Avengers the same, undivided attention, reaching out to rest his hands on the table between them as Steve continued. “He does lean protein the best. Dairy is all right. I don’t want to know why he can eat plain tofu like it’s nothing but don’t give it to him. It’s a trigger.”

Clint swallowed a little uneasily but didn’t outwardly show it. Sometimes Bucky’s triggers were odd. And others had horrifying implications. Hydra… they had been sick, twisted bastards.

“Nothing too rich or sweet.” Steve said, taking in a breath. “His body still doesn’t understand how to process it too well yet. There’s a notebook in here that should be a big help but Laura called and she already seems to have something worked out for tonight.”

Clint nodded. Laura had been planning on something special. Well the whole night would be set up that way but his was a big deal to both of them and they were excited - but more than anything they wanted Bucky to feel wanted. Clint knew the man struggled with both that and feeling like he was too much, or a burden. And that was the last thing they wanted him to feel like.

“You know the emergency protocols if…” Steve didn’t finish the sentence but he didn’t have to.

“I do.” Clint assured him. It was a hard thing to think about but one that had to be thought about, no matter how rehabilitated Bucky was. Clint had much more training than the average person but even Natasha couldn’t stand toe to toe with the Winter Soldier. And Steve had taken enough of a beating in the past that it was glaringly apparent just how much damage a triggered Winter Soldier could do. There was just no way in the world to know all of the man’s triggers. His past was extensive, violent, and a big unknown. Bucky hadn’t hurt anyone yet. In his early days of rehabilitation, Clint would notice a black eye here and there with Steve. A cut or bruised cheek. But nothing ever as serious as the helicarrier.

And Clint trusted Bucky with his life, especially after having extended time one on one with him. Bucky had been around his children. And Clint trusted Bucky around them too. But even he knew that they had to be prepared for the worst. To blindly ignore the worst case scenario wouldn’t be fair to Bucky at all. And dangerous. To everyone.

Steve nodded. “And Natasha will be in the area just in case. But I’m just a Quinjet away. If anything…” his jaw twitched in what was definitely an attempt to cover up a wince but his tone was no nonsense and his gaze was unflinching when he met Clint’s eyes with his own. “Worst case scenario just let him go. And I mean that.”

It was pretty hard for Clint to agree, but he did. Wasn’t entirely sure if he’d actually do it. But Laura was a civilian. She didn’t have a choice in the matter. None of them stood a chance but her especially - it just wasn’t an option.

Steve took in a quick breath. “It shouldn’t come to that. It hasn’t. As confused as he’s gotten, even when he’s triggered he’s triggered to take orders. And you’ve been through a rough ride or two with him before.”

Steve smiled. “Actually… you’ve been around him in the least controlled circumstances. Even more than I have. I’d almost say you have more experience around him now than I do.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Clint said it with a smile but he meant it. “But yeah he’s done good. I can’t explain it, I really can’t. There’s a lot of times when I took him out that I could have lost him. But it he doesn’t want to lose himself no matter how much the Winter Soldier might. As long as he’s got someone to hang onto…”

Steve nodded but he hesitated. “Bucky doesn’t expecting anything. You know he won’t be. But you two have already made him happier, more relaxed, than I’ve seen since… well since everything that happened. I know you’ll take good care of him. More than that, I know he’ll take good care of you and Laura.”

Clint hesitated, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Bucky in the bathroom, wondering why he was thinking of it all of a sudden now and if he should keep it private. But Bucky and Steve were almost synonymous with each other. If Clint could talk to anyone about Bucky, it was Steve. “You know he said something to me, while I was cutting his hair. And it won’t leave me. He was talking about how selfless you are, how he kind of had to remind you that…” Clint smiled up at Steve but chose his words carefully. “Losing your life over a cause sometimes wasn’t worth the cause.”

Steve pulled in a quiet breath and Clint almost apologized.

“Back when I was so sick, it wasn’t something we outright fought about but pretty close yeah. I just figured…” Steve took in another slow breath and this was really hitting him. Clint fought back the urge to apologize again, riveted. “I figured if I died-” Steve met Clint’s eyes and gave him a smile that seemed as old as the man really was, even if he’d been frozen for a vast majority of those years. “I was going to die anyway. Better to go out fighting for something, for someone, than to be taken out by the common cold.”

Clint couldn’t argue with that at all.

“But why did Bucky bring that up?” Steve asked.

And now Clint hesitated with a wince but he got it out in a straight shot. “He said when he fell from that plane he wasn’t selfless. That he didn’t die a hero. He said he was angry and afraid.” he met Steve’s eyes levelly. “And for some reason that really… it really didn’t leave me.”

Steve, hands on the island counter, lowered his head and let out a quiet breath. Or it looked like it had been taken right out of him. “Dammit Buck.” he murmured. Steve’s expression was pained, shocked, and somehow - very knowing. All in the same shot. “Yeah and that’s something I always fought Bucky over. Between all those jokes of his, those smiles, I knew he didn’t think much of himself. He never did. Bucky talked a big game but he’d only stop the punches if they were coming at me.”

“And not himself.” Clint said.

“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “Sure you get him angry enough at something, Bucky would finish a fight. But sometimes he’d just take it. Like he deserved it.”

Clint felt his world gray all around the edges and the strange way his mind had been racing over what they were talking about came to a screeching halt. “Hydra…” Clint managed, murmuring it low with all the hate that he could manage. Forcing down a well of anger and hate and so much pain on Bucky’s behalf, he cast his eyes momentarily to the ceiling. “That had to be how they… it had to be the biggest way they manipulated him. Like he-”

“-deserved it.” Steve and Clint finished at the same time.

Clint met Steve’s eyes, swallowing heavily. “Yeah.”

Steve actually looked like he needed to sit down, looking suddenly exhausted. Grieved. Like the pain of losing Bucky, or maybe even just finding out what he’d been through had hit Steve all over again. Clint too honestly. And Steve reached for a bar stool and sat somewhat heavily onto it. Quietly he said. “Clint… what you’re doing for Bucky is something I couldn’t. Sure I helped put him back together again-”

“You did put him back together again.” Clint interjected quietly. “He couldn’t have done that on his own.”

Steve tipped a smile up at him from where he sat. “But you’re doing something right now that I can’t. I put him back together but those lines that divide him? You’re blurring those. And it’s a good thing.”

Clint suddenly felt like Steve was giving him permission for something. Exchanging hands with Bucky’s care, trusting him to take care of his oldest and closest friend. They had a bond that went deeper than could be normally measured. But here he was, trusting Clint and Laura with Bucky’s heart. And Clint didn’t take that lightly, giving Steve a warm smile and saying quietly. “We’re going to take good care of him Steve. I can promise you that.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I believe it.” he smiled.

 

Bucky paced until Natasha said that he couldn’t. So he stood by a window until the Winter Soldier inside of him said that it was a tactical nightmare to stand so openly by such a large window. So Bucky gave a loud, uneasy sigh and turned to Natasha, a little hopelessly. Maybe it yelled ‘give me something to do’ because she smiled, crossing one leg over the other, and clasping her hands over her knee. And then she reached behind her back, pulling out a pistol.

Even though Bucky knew her, trusted her with his life in fact, the Soldier twitched - eyes falling to the weapon. Natasha just checked the chamber, pulling it back to clear it, and let it snap back. And then she tossed it to him.

Easily he caught it, giving her a questioning look. Natasha just nodded to the Glock in his hands. “Take it apart, put it back together. It’s not much but it’s something to do.”

Bucky would take it. He sat down heavily on some blanketed, covered wooden crates, ignoring the dust he disturbed - and did as she said. Natasha took him here sometimes. It had probably been a condo duplex in the 1920s and 30s. But it had been abandoned and last updated in the 80s. The windows were massive, large, and ornate. The wooden floors were very worn by now and everything was coated in dust. But it was quiet. The entire building was on the list of preserved buildings in New York. It was too massive to demolish but at the moment, it was also too expensive to renovate. So at the very top, the abandoned rooms were actually peaceful despite being in the middle of a sprawling and massive city.

Bucky was waiting for the all clear from Steve and Clint, to let him know that he could travel to the Homestead for the date planned with Clint and Laura. He wanted to go there on his own. Clint would meet him when he was a half hour out but Bucky would be taking his own motorcycle to the farmhouse in Iowa. The Quinjet could cover much of the distance quickly. The rest he wanted to do himself.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Natasha smiled.

“You don’t know that.”

He must have spaced off, the ease of taking apart the small pistol was mind numbing with how easy it was. Because Natasha asked a little bit more pointedly. “Where’s your knife?”

Bucky blinked and stood, putting the clip back in the Glock and passing it back to her by the barrel. “It was worth a shot. Thanks.”

Natasha gave him a gentle look and tucked the pistol back, underneath her jacket against her lower back. And Bucky took out his knife with his metal hands, walking over to the window and letting the easy way he could spin the blade and pass it between his fingers soothe his somewhat racing thoughts. “It should be fine.” Bucky murmured quietly.

“It will be fine.” Natasha repeated. “The only things that have ever triggered you are the words and nothing that will be in Clint and Laura’s house. Or in anything that they’ll do or say. And.”

“And?” Bucky asked. She was drawing him into conversation and that was all right. Even forcing him to utter a word or too kept him grounded.

“And your bed will be there. After your tucked in-”

He appreciated the way she didn’t say ‘strapped’.

“-you won’t be going anywhere. Even if you have a nightmare. You won’t be able to hurt anyone.”

It was true. Bucky knew it was true.

“Picture yourself there, with them, at the Homestead. What calms you? If you get anxious, what’s the first thing you reach for?”

Bucky answered without thinking, catching the knife in his hands. “Clint.”

Bucky felt a little caught, and guilty by the sudden confession but Natasha just smiled at him and her tone softened, gentled. “There you go.”

Vaguely, Bucky heard Clint’s voice in his head. _“If you feel yourself slipping? Grab me. And hold on.”_

And subtly Bucky relaxed, just like that, hearing the words as if Clint had spoken them out loud. It wasn’t logical, anything could go wrong. His mind was a trap. But… strangely, he felt like everything was going to be okay. He’d been around Lila and Cooper and nothing had happened. Even though they’d be away tonight, because it was still the safest option Bucky was comfortable with, even accidentally being around Clint’s entire family - triggered… Bucky didn’t know how, but everything just felt like it was going to be okay. The thought of Clint and Laura was soothing. He could do this. He could allow himself to have this.

Natasha’s phone vibrated, and she took it out of her pocket, holding Bucky’s eyes as she answered. “Good to go?” After a pause, she nodded to whoever was on the other line. “Mmhm. He’s good. Do you want to talk to him?” Natasha turned the phone away from her mouth. “Do you need to talk to Steve?”

“Put him on speaker.” Bucky said.

Natasha did as he asked and held it in a hand. “You’re on Steve.”

_“You okay, Buck?”_

“Yeah just…” Bucky reached up to rub at his eyes, blindly throwing his knife towards the wall. “Tell me I’m stupid for being this nervous.”

 _“I think the only person nervous is you.”_ Steve returned easily.

“Thanks. And you’re a horrible liar.” Bucky muttered. And Steve just laughed.

 _“I’m just a call away.”_ Steve said, _“Thirty minutes from the Homestead at maximum speed in the Quinjet. Natasha will be ten minutes away - tops. You need anything, I’ll be there. It’s okay to be nervous. But you shouldn’t be. Just try and have a good time tonight. It’ll be all right.”_

Bucky nodded at Natasha and she took the cell phone off speaker, bringing it back up. “Okay. We’re off speaker.” Eyeing Bucky as she spoke, she said. “Uh huh. You got it.”

Natasha hung up the phone and stood up, nodding Bucky towards the door. “Come on.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her with a dry smirk. “Not going to even ask me if I’m ready?” But he was following her regardless, Natasha throwing a grin over her shoulder. But the thought of all that she was doing, for him - for Clint and Laura… he sobered considerably. “Natasha… thank you. For this. For doing this.”

“Well.” Natasha smiled. “I could think of worse places to be than a bed and breakfast in the middle of Iowa.”

“Not exactly your style.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be hell, I just said there are worse places.”

Bucky caught her teasing, even if she said it seriously, he knew how to read Natasha well enough by now. So the guilt he felt was minimal. “I appreciate it.” he said quietly though, following down just one set of stairs. One set of nearly a hundred. Only Natasha was slightly winded when they got to the bottom. But he didn’t call her out on it. Bucky didn’t want a reminder that he wasn’t human anymore. Especially not now.

 

It was dark when they reached the Homestead. Bucky had followed on his motorcycle behind Clint, parting ways with Natasha a half hour out as agreed. She’d changed her travel plans, renting a cabin in the woods on the property right next to the Barton’s. She was a few miles away but it was better than twenty. Bucky was subtly more relieved than he had been before. And she said that she was looking forward to the isolation.

Bucky knew she couldn’t stop him. Steve could barely stop him. But Bucky stuffed down the worries, the fears. Even triggered, he hadn’t hurt the Bartons. And he’d hold onto that fiercely. Protect them like they were his own. Die for them without hesitation. He wouldn’t let anything inside of him conflict with that either. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Clint and Laura.

“Hey.” Clint said softly.

And he was smiling, standing between Bucky and the front porch. Bucky had slowed and lagged a few steps behind, lost in his thoughts and maybe something else entirely, and come to a stop. But Clint had noticed and his smile was understanding. And he held out a hand.

Bucky let out a slow breath and took it and then he noticed Laura.

She was just stepping out onto the porch, wearing a blue and silver skirt that reached her knees and a simple, long sleeved black top. There was nothing simple about the black heels she was wearing. But she looked stunning. Gorgeous. And Bucky struggled to feel worthy of either of these two people. He just wanted to get lost in Laura’s arms. And lost with Clint and Laura was turning the word into something positive.

“Bucky.” Laura smiled brightly, her voice warm. There was so much in that one word. There was so much on her face, her expression. She looked happy to see him, a little overwhelmed, probably because of how different he must look now compared to when they’d first met. And she looked a little emotional about it. Like that made her happy too and Bucky…

Bucky was going to say something polite. ‘Ma’am’ almost slipped from his lips again - like that first time. But instead, as his feet found the steps and Bucky was walking up the steps of the porch to greet her, he took Laura into his arms instead. And although he did it almost slowly, as if to give her plenty of time to say no, she only went. Right into his arms.

And Bucky was holding her close before he could stop himself, pressing his face into her hair and neck and breathing in deeply. She felt like home. The smell of her was so grounding, soothing. And somehow intoxicating too. Everything about her, somehow felt like exactly like everything else he’d needed. Like there had been something else missing in his life he hadn’t known about until right then.

Laura held him tightly, a hand on the back of his neck. She had to lean up to return the embrace, though the heels she was wearing helped. And a hand stroked through his hair at the base of his skull and Bucky let out a quiet breath. “Are you sure I didn’t love you in another life time?”

Laura’s breath might have caught. “I’m sure. Because I would have remembered it.”

As Bucky pulled back finally, bringing himself to do it, Clint’s hand warmly settled on his lower back. And he was smiling at Bucky with such an understanding, gentle look on his face. And Bucky felt like it was okay. And he was more than a little relieved. Of course it was okay, he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. But just to have that quiet, steadfast acceptance around every turn. It meant the world to Bucky. To have these two in his life.

Clint took Laura’s hand to lift it, bringing it to his lips. “You look gorgeous.”

Laura looked like she was going to say something, but looked to Bucky instead, giving him a somewhat baffled - amazed look. “Me?” she glanced over to Clint and then back to Bucky. “Honey when you said you cut his hair, you didn’t give a girl a proper warning about this face.” she said, reaching up and taking Bucky’s face into her hands.

Bucky breathed a quiet laugh, accepting the compliment and only feeling a little flustered about it. Reaching up, he took her hands in his. “That’s fair.” he said, fixing her eyes on her. “Clint didn’t give me any warning about you either.” he murmured.

“Well.” Clint said, breaking the moment quality. “Now that we all know we’re attractive people-”

Laura laughed and Bucky shared it. “You too-”

Clint was already heading inside, reaching down to catch Bucky’s hand in his and one of Laura’s too. “Oh I know I am. Come on.”

And so it was like that, Clint’s hand in Laura’s and Laura holding onto one of Bucky’s - that he led them both into the house. It was a little symbolic. It was like it was Clint’s choice, a choice he was leaving to Laura equally, and she was just as accepting. It felt like they weren’t just leading Bucky into the house. It felt like they were leading him, welcoming him, into their lives. Officially. They’d done the same when he’d first shown up on their back porch steps - muddy, soaking wet, and more than a little lost with only Clint to hang onto. But that hadn’t been a mutually shared choice like tonight was.

“Supper is almost done.” Laura said, her hands leaving theirs as she headed for the kitchen. “I was just waiting for you before I finished it.”

Bucky watched, quietly following after them, as Laura took a small serving of what smelled like a tuna pasta. And it smelled incredible too. Steve could cook and enjoyed cooking. Bucky had been unhealthily underweight by the time the man had found him and putting weight back on hadn’t been easy. But Steve had definitely preserved. Bucky had had better food than he’d ever had in his life. Courtesy of the modern age definitely.

They moved practically in sync with each other, like a married couple and the parents of three kids. Effortlessly and even when they might bump into each other - it was far from awkward. It was smooth. Strangely soothing. And Bucky watched as Laura passed Clint a plate. And Clint motioned Bucky over, gesturing to the large oak dining table. “Sit.” he smiled.

Bucky did as he said, pulling out a chair at the head of the table because it was the closest and it could face and watch Laura - with a respect vantage point to the back porch door and the front door too. If it was wear Clint usually sat, he didn’t show it, sitting across from Bucky at the corner. “All right. We wanted to see how this settled first before Laura finished it. Steve said it’s always a good idea to give you a taste first.”

Bucky dutifully accepted what Clint fed him from a fork. Because it was true. Clint also amazed him that… what Bucky had been bent into, certain normal human traits that had been ironed out through mental manipulation - they didn’t seem to bother Clint. It’s why Bucky avoided anyone but the Avengers. Bucky usually now felt comfortable around those that took the lead or gave him orders. He didn’t fight it either. That would be exhausting. And when it came from a loving, accepting source, it was easier to just give and let it happen.

Clint cupped a hand under the fork as he fed him a small bite. And it was good. Damn good. “What is this?” he frowned.  
Laura smiled at him from over her shoulder, turning to watch the two men at the table. “It’s a tuna pasta recipe that’s been in my family for ages. It’s simple but delicious. I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Yeah I do.” Bucky’s eyes though fell to Clint. And there was that twitch again. He was looking for orders.

But Clint just smiled. “All right let’s see how that settles.” he said, putting the fork down.

Bucky nodded, settling his hands on his knees. “Feels really good on my stomach.” he noted. “I’m sure it’s fine.” And it did. He could always tell if something was going to go bad or right. But there were some foods that just felt immediately fine. Right. Good. There had to be a lot of milk in Laura’s pasta because it was agreeing with him immediately.

And seeing how happy this made Laura made it all the better.

 

Dinner went over so well that Clint couldn’t be any happier. Laura’s creamy pasta tuna and homemade bread hadn’t bothered Bucky at all, they’d laughed and talked over dinner and each one of Bucky’s smiles just lit up the room. It was so incredible just to witness him relaxed enough to laugh. His smile was beautiful, it was contagious, and Clint would catch himself just staring. Wondering how on earth he could be sitting there staring at his beautiful wife and this beautiful man who was trusting them with everything he was and anything he had left.

They’d both finished eating before Bucky, who had to take it pretty slow considering his stomach was still adjusting to solid food, and so now they were just talking - keeping him company while he finished up the last of it. They were even drinking some wine and Bucky didn’t appear to be struggling with that either. And Laura looked beautiful like this. Clint could actually just watch and admire her for that thanks to Barnes. And it was exactly what he loved about polyamorous relationships. Which he and Laura had considered but had both agreed it would take someone pretty damn special.

Without a doubt, Bucky was that.

Laura laughed at something Bucky said, reaching over to cover his hand with hers, and he was sharing the laugh. They were all a little buzzed maybe and that was probably helping them all but especially Bucky. He wouldn’t compromise himself or put anyone at risk by drinking too much and they knew that but just to enjoy a drink was more than all right. It was a moment they were happy to let him have. Especially if Bucky was able to relax enough to actually smile and look somewhat at ease. First dates were nerve wracking but this… this just wasn’t.

They took turns dancing after that. Bucky led Laura into something old, older than Clint that was for sure but it was nice and he enjoyed watching. They eased in and out of a few dances with each other more to modern music than older, Clint taking the turn next and taking the lead and Bucky let him. It was amazing how he could go from being the perfect lead with Laura to easing into following Clint through the next dance, body loose and submissive, his metal hand cool in Clint’s. Clint enjoyed dancing with another man more intimately. He’d danced with Bucky before but it had been between friends and strictly to keep him calm when he’d been upset. And then it had been a little of something more and something else when Bucky had been overwhelmed and rattled from the fight against Hydra that had brought them both to Clint’s backdoor more than a little beat up.

It was probably going to be the last dance of the evening. Clint was sitting and drinking a beer, more into that than the wine honestly, mesmerized by the sight of Laura in Bucky’s arms. She looked so good there, so beautiful. Equally, Bucky was a sight to behold too. And he had a hand on her lower back and they were dancing so close. Clint almost took a drink of beer but paused… wondering if they might actually kiss. And then it happened.

Bucky leaned down and Laura encouraged him closer with her hands on his face and neck. His lips touched hers and… and Clint’s heart skipped a beat but not in a way that was bad. Something else just seemed to click into place. Some other part of him just seemed to feel whole. More complete than it had already been. And he smiled.

Bucky looked to be coming home. And that was exactly where they wanted him to be.

 

Bucky knew that things could have gone farther tonight than just kissing. But he hadn’t felt ready. Honestly he was struggling to feel worthy and he was thinking it was going to take some time. But Laura and Clint were so relaxed and making him feel like he could take that time. And for that he couldn’t be more grateful. It’s like the didn’t have any expectations. They were all just with each other, as each other, however it happened.

And that was so peaceful that Bucky couldn’t put words to it.

It was just after midnight when they all finally headed upstairs to go to sleep. Laura had kicked off her heels and padded barefoot up with them, Clint taking Bucky by the hand. They lost some clothes along the way and neither Laura or Clint were anything but understanding with how tired and out of it Bucky truly felt.

After all that he’d been through, social contact could still be exhausting. Especially of this kind. Bucky hadn’t known anything intimate like this beyond breaking from Hydra. It was all new. But Clint and Laura just seemed to know. And understand.

His bed was waiting upstairs, set up right across the hall from Clint and Laura’s - which was comforting. It was things he’d never admit out loud. Like being irritated with himself, even after all the rehabilitation that he’d gone through, that he could still get exhausted from heavy social contact. That he even had triggers, that he needed so much from people. And it never, ever felt like he gave enough back.

He wanted to feel guilty that none of that was really on his mind tonight.

Bucky changed into something to sleep in and Clint and Laura led him to his room. The spare bedroom wasn’t finished so his bedroom was set up in Lila and Cooper’s but he honestly didn’t mind. There was nothing in the world Bucky could ever find to complain about, not here, not in this incredible place where he’d found love and acceptance.

“Next time.” Clint murmured quietly, voice barely above a whisper, as he started to put Bucky into the restraints. Laura had stroked a hand through his hair in a way that had made Bucky swallow heavily and she was here too. “The spare bedroom will be finished. And we’re giving that one to you.”

Laura ran a hand over Bucky’s stomach, over his shirt, before he could even manage words. “Until you feel comfortable sharing a bed with us, we want you to have a place in the house. Lila and Cooper know about it too.”

Bucky was largely too moved for words. But he managed, somehow to at least thank them.

Clint made a soft noise and leaned down to capture Bucky’s lips in his own. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to thank us.”

Laura leaned down to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and then glanced up at Clint, her expression a lovingly serious one as she reached for the restraints on her side of the bed. “Show me.”

If Clint looked moved, Bucky was overwhelmed with how moved he was.

Bucky watched from where lay in the bed as they strapped him in, together. Clint showed Laura which notch was best and how tight, showing her how to check the tightness too. They buckled the cuffs over his ankles, the bigger strap over his hips, and both his wrists. The one over his chest was nearly last and then Clint did the one around his neck. Laura kept giving Bucky glances to make sure he was okay but Bucky, he guessed, was calm and sedate enough by the restraints that he didn’t need to reassure her with words. It felt good. This was one of the things Bucky had wanted to fight how Hydra had manipulated him. But he couldn’t. Because this kept people safe and kept him from getting lost.

He was already falling asleep as Laura stroked a hand soothingly through Bucky’s hair. “He looks so calm.” he heard Laura whisper to Clint.

“Yeah.” And Clint’s hand, warm and hardened from years with the bow, was rubbing Bucky’s stomach and doing well to thoroughly knock him out. And Bucky could hear him smile. “See, it keeps him nice and calm honey. He sleeps better this way too.”

“I believe it.” Laura’s hand was in his and Bucky thought to squeeze it, much as he could anyway.

And Laura made a soft sound. “Can I kiss him goodnight?”

“Probably shouldn’t.” Clint said. “Don’t want to spook him.”  
Bucky roused enough to argue. “You better or I’ll find a way to get outta here and kiss you myself.”

He opened his eyes just enough to see Laura laugh from where she was standing beside Clint, at his bedside, Clint’s arms securely around her shoulders. The other was holding Bucky’s hands too, over Laura’s, stroking their fingers with his. And he couldn’t meet her, the strap around his neck preventing him from lifting his head, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips were warm and soft and perfect and the smell of her perfume hit him gently before she pulled away. And his eyes were already closed again because he definitely couldn’t stay awake now.

Clint’s hand soothingly squeezed his. “G’night, Buck.”

And that was the last thing Bucky heard, he felt was Laura’s hand carefully leaving his - but not without a loving squeeze and a gentle caress of his fingers. And the last thing he felt was a sheet draped over his legs, just above his hips. And he was out and lost to the world - feeling more loved than he’d ever had in his entire life. Loved, safe, secure. With two people he’d do anything, anything to protect.

 

TBC


End file.
